Scenes From the Moobarn

[Guest]

Scenes From the Moobarn

Some time ago I decided to give up on apartment living and rent a house on a 'moobarn' - a Thai housing estate.

 

Moobarns come in all shapes and sizes from the carefully tended show-home variety with ornamental ponds and vigilant security guards to the decaying urban sprawls rather like moobarn Seri 5 - the housing estate I live on. Moobarn Seri was built many years ago to house some of Bangkok's poorer population and while many middle-class residents have moved in and improved some of the properties, many of the 50-year-old houses look on the verge of collapse. Living on a moobarn gives you insights into Thai life that you don't really experience when being stuck up on the 10th floor of some high-rise apartment building

Dogs are always a problem on Thai housing estates. They wander around in savage looking packs and I can't begin to tell you the number of times that I've changed my route or delayed a journey simply so I don't have to encounter them. Many of the residents take to carrying long pieces of garden cane or an umbrella to fend off the savage beasts, who in reality will run a mile at the sight of a human being waving something in a menacing way. My journey to work each day takes me past a house whose owner has 3 yappy Cocker Spaniels who obviously go somewhat short of exercise. In the early days of my living on the estate the only exercise they got was chasing me up the street every time I passed. As soon as they saw me they would jump up against the rusty iron gates secured with a pathetic piece of wire and the fun and games would begin. One day after a particularly difficult week at the office I was strolling past La Maison De Cocker Spaniel and as usual the little bastards decided a bit of early evening sport was in order, however, they hadn't got very far when their owner - a lady of about 45 - shouted at them and called them back into the house. I sensed that this was my moment. I still shudder to think how I went for that poor woman's throat. I accused her of appalling shortages of intelligence and of stealing a man's liberty to walk down his own street. F-words were flying around all over the place. The poor woman just stood rooted to the spot having possibly the worst moment of her life. The following day was a weekend so it was Monday morning before I ventured down that way again. I was suddenly stopped in my tracks as the dog-house came into view. Gone were the rusty iron gates. Gone was the pathetic piece of wire. In their place were the most magnificent and ornate garden gates I had ever seen. Both about 8 feet high, they looked like something out of a Tim Burton movie. I half expected them to swing open and reveal a twisting path leading off to a castle on top of a distant mountain. I felt a tinge of shame when I tried to imagine the expense that the poor woman had gone to, but to this day I'm not actually sure whether the gates are there to keep the dogs in or rather me out.

One downside of having dogs roaming around is of course dog shit. I went through about 3 months of waking up every morning, looking out of my bedroom window and immediately having my day ruined by the sight of some huge unholy dog's egg sitting directly in front of my garden gate. I would lock my gate in the morning and try desperately hard not to let my gaze fall on the canine bum cigar but it was no good - it was f***ing enormous! and it was obviously the work of the same pooch. I tried everything to throw him off the scent - cleaning fluids, salt, you name it, it was scattered all over the offending area of footpath but still the dog would come. Always in the middle of the night, but a-shitting he would come. I was at the end of my tether. I seriously contemplated staying up all night disguised as a tree and then attacking it with a baseball bat. Then upon hearing of my ordeal, the landlord of my house went out and bought a bag of crushed chili with an intolerable pungency, which he sprinkled on Shitty's sniffing ground. And Shitty never came back.

At the end of my soi is the all-important corner shop. No Thai soi would be complete without one. The husband and wife who run the place open up at 7.30 in the morning and close anytime between 8 and 9pm. It really is an amazing place because it sells 4 things - cigarettes, soft drinks, beer and washing powder. The couple sit there all day watching third rate Thai soap operas on a clapped out black and white portable TV and waiting to serve anyone who has suddenly run out of cigarettes, Coke, beer or washing powder. I've been going in there for Marlboro Lights for 3 years and I still can't work out what language the woman can speak. Mind you our conversation has only ever consisted of "hello, Marlboro lights", to which she will reply "thank you". Every time I've tried to make polite conversation about the weather, she just shakes her head and smiles. Her husband, on the other hand, is positively a raconteur compared with his missis and takes great delight in addressing me with the 6 words of English he knows irrespective of the topic I'm discussing. I haven't got the heart to tell the man that if he communicates with me in Thai we may actually get somewhere.

Although it's said that household burglary is rife on Thai housing estates, I have been lucky up to now. But if I do ever get burgled I'm going to blame Pizza Hut. Not a day goes by without some spotty faced kid coming by and sticking a flyer in my garden gate advertising Pizza Hut's, Chester Grill's, or KFC's latest delivery promotion. If I go out of town for a few days the damn flyers are all over the place - sticking out of the letterbox, in the flowerbed, poking from in-between the railings and blowing all over the lawn. It's like putting up a 6 foot neon sign saying 'please break in and steal my video recorder'.

One thing has surprised me about living in a little house on a leafy soi - there are no door-to-door beggars. When I first moved in I imagined an almost daily occurrence of my bell being rung by some scrawny old blind man and his 'seeing eye' woman holding a plastic cup while he plays some awful dirge on a set of bamboo panpipes. In 3 years, I've had the bell ring twice - once was from a teacher collecting money for underprivileged children - to whom I gave a crisp 20 baht note and sent on his way, and a young couple selling bags of cow-shit for 20 baht a throw, stopping to get my attention only because they thought I had a nice garden.

Although there is a scarcity of panhandlers - and for that I am truly grateful - there is however no end of itinerant salesman who seem to be prevalent on any housing estate without security posts. There are the 'scavengers' who buy old newspapers and cardboard, the scissor-sharpening man who insists on sharpening the set of Sheffield Steel steak knifes that I've never had or needed. There's the man who sells wooden footstools that look like they've been knocked up by a group of mentally handicapped people in their first ever woodwork lesson. There's the young, pleasant Thai woman who is forever trying to unload huge bottles of home-made honey on me, and finally the lottery ticket seller who thinks I'm far more likely to believe in my chances of winning the Thai lottery if I buy tickets at the garden gate. I'm not and I don't. The real annoyances come from the salesman who drive around in pick-up trucks fitted with tinny P.A systems, and insist on telling you that they've got mangoes, rambutans, and watermelons at a volume I can only describe as loud. And why oh why oh why do they have to do it at 6.00 in the morning when you have a hangover that you could sell to science.

In a moment of absolute madness, I decided it might be a good idea to hang a sign on the garden gate advertising my services as an English teacher. I had a nice big spare room on the second floor equipped with swivel chairs and a quality wooden table - stick a photocopy of my degree on the wall and hey presto - we're in business. English language lessons 600 baht an hour - sorted. I soon realized that this wasn't such a good idea when people started to pull up outside the house in silver Mercedes Benzes and enquire as to my availability to teach their 14-year old daughter who hadn't spoken to anyone for the past six years. It was easy enough to sell the lessons to them and demand a wad of cash up front - I've never had problems with selling myself - but it was the fact that it was often necessary to invite Mommy and Daddy into the house. Now, I don't want to imply at this point that I live in veritable squalor but I am after all, a single fella living on his jack and housework is never at the top of my priorities list. So I'd have Mommy and Daddy sitting in the living room all posh and polite while I hunted around for two drinking glasses that weren't covered in 3 inches of dust. Then I discovered that the bag of ice cubes that I kept in the freezer had all stuck together to form one massive lump. There then followed frantic moments of mountaineering/pickaxe type noises while Mommy and Daddy sweated to death on the plastic sofa. It was all too much trouble in the end and language lessons with Bangkok Phil became quite definitely a thing of the past.

[ August 11, 2001: Message edited by: Bangkok Phil ]

[pattaya127]

Thanks Phil,

Great reading. Sent it to many friends. Encore!

[Guest]

Phil,

Excellent stuff...

You know how Stickman is always discussing business opportunities in his weekly? I used to wonder about the viability of getting a truck, a net, and a few holding pens, and starting a canines to Sakorn Nakorn delivery service...If I ever do, your moobarn will be on the route for sure...

J22J

[Guest]

Great stuff! Had me in stitches as does most of your writing. I'll say it again, put this stuff together in a book and send it to a few publishers, I can't be the only one who loves this sort of thing.

[Guest]

Scenes From the Moobarn Part 2

Living as I do, some 10 minutes from the main Ramkhamheaeng Road (and civilization) I am totally reliant on one of the open pick-up trucks (songthaews) that ferry residents to and from the main road for 3 baht a person. The rules are very simple - you wave down the truck en route and you get on. Once on board there is seating room for 12 passengers and standing room for another dozen or so.

It's about a 30-second walk from my house to the songthaew route and I stand under a shady tree alone with my thoughts while waiting for the truck. However, on occasion I am joined by a thirty-something Thai fella who has Down's Syndrome. Now let me be the first to say that this is a terrible thing to be born with, but that doesn't hide the fact that he knows three words of English - I love you. And he derives great pleasure in telling me as many times as possible while I pray to God that the songthaew comes soon. I've tried making friendly conversation with him - god knows I've tried. "What's your name?" "How are you today?" but after each question there is a moments silence and then he will look me in the eye and say, "I love you". It's hopeless. I've even offered him money to piss off and leave me alone. "Here's 20 baht - go and get yourself an ice-cream". He simply takes the money, puts it in his pocket and then says "I love you" and off we go again.

They're a funny lot that catches the songthaew to work in the morning and I've got names for them all. I wonder what they call me? There's Steven Seagal - a Thai guy who's a dead ringer even down to the ponytail. There's a female version of Boy George. There's the Karma Sutra couple who always look as though they've been up all night bonking, and other faces too numerous to mention individually. The songthaew route takes us past ABAC university, possibly Bangkok's most expensive college, and an institute for students who couldn't get into a decent university but who are fortunately blessed with rich parents. May I share a wonderful joke with you? It concerns an ABAC student on her first day at work. Her new boss puts a mop in her hand and asks her to go and clean the toilets. "Excuse me" she says "I'll have you know that I have a master's degree from ABAC" The boss looks at her in horror "I'm so, so sorry. In that case I'll get someone to show you how to do it" I think that's wonderful. I watch these ABAC students and it never fails to amaze me how they can make the simple act of getting on and off a vehicle look so difficult. I know 3 teachers at ABAC university - two of them say that all the students should be shot. The third one says that they should be counseled and encouraged to discuss their learning difficulties - then they should be shot.

ABAC students are all from the same mould. The girls are poured into their tight little uniforms and carry Hello Kitty pencil cases, and the boys all wear silly shoes and have floppy hair held back with an alice band. Both sexes carry tiny mobile phones and hold conversations on them that all fall under the same category - inane drivel.

One of the great differences between Thai neighbors and good old English neighbors is how in Thailand they just aren't part of your life. In England, you're constantly in and out of each other's houses borrowing cups of sugar and asking who won the 4.30 at Haydock Park? In Bangkok, my neighbor on the left-hand side is an evil-looking government school teacher who lives alone (and if you saw her face you'd understand why) and only emerges once a day to tie plastic bags full of garbage to the nearest lamp-post. On the other side of me, I have a family that proves a point - some people just don't deserve to live in a house. The kids are out of control, the dad's always pissed and the mother's bone-idle. They play the radio at ungodly hours of the day. They can't grasp the concept that rubbish goes in the bin and not on the street. And they can't seem to learn that pets have to be taken care of and given love and affection - as three dead dogs and a pondful of fish lying belly up will testify.

[Roger]

Great topic Phil,

I too live in a Moobarn, got to agree with your dog observations, I have a Boxer dog myself and on our daily walks we have very few problems with the street dogs. The pet dogs are another matter! It amazes me why so many dog owners leave their gates wide open…I have had Pit bulls, Rottweilers and German Shepherds charge at us from open gates. I always carry a big stick and so far have been successful in fending them off.

Neighbours, well when I first moved in here I had three stunning girls living in the house next door, one of them had a thing about walking round the garden with an open sided top, showing all she had to offer! I spent quite a bit of time in the garden during that time. It turned out that the old man who I thought was the father was actually the sugar daddy of one of the girls. He stopped paying the rent when he turned up one day and found his girl in bed with a local policeman. The policeman had also been shagging the 16-year-old daughter of the maid while his girlfriend was working. She now has a lovely baby girl!!

About four months ago the people in the house opposite decided to convert their house into a karaoke bar! I should make it clear that this is a very quiet area and up until this point was also very respectable (apart from the shagging policeman). Night after night I listened to dodgy Isaan wenches howling like tortured cats accompanied by the obligatory Bontempi organ…..After about a week of this, I cracked, searching through my music collection I selected “Paranoid” by Black Sabbath and opening all the windows in my house let it rip on full volume for about half an hour (this was 4am)….I went to bed a happy man. Over the next few days the music gradually grew quieter and eventually the place closed down. Not sure if Ozzy Osbournes dulcet tones had anything to do with it, but I would like to think that they did.

Life in a Moobarn is never dull…….

[Guest]

I once lived in a moobarn in Pattaya. One can only imagine the fun and excitement of living in one of these places in the world's most famous place for sin. I lived there with a Thai girl who had a Australian boyfriend in Hong Kong. He bought the house for her and I enjoyed free rent. When she would go off on her obligatory visits, that is when the good times began. I have to remind the friendly reader that this was at a time when I had absolutely no moral compass and did pretty much anything that was pleasing to me; my days of being a mangda dickhead are over, by the way. Anyway, after one night of being out until 6:00 am in the middle of the rainy season I came home to a soi bitch with her new litter of puppies born on my front porch with blood and placenta everywhere. I was not happy. For one thing, I hate dogs, any kind of dog, and secondly, I was piss drunk and soaked to the bone from the rain. I was in no mood to deal with this at all. Considering that it was storming outside, I let the dog and her pups camp out on my porch. The next day I came back to check on the new family and they were still there. She just refused to go anywhere. The dogs camped out for three or four days until I moved them to a large field next to my complex. I built them a card board house in case it rained and the Thai girl living next to the field took pity on me and helped me take care of the dogs. I would buy hot dogs from the hot dog vendor everyday and feed them. The dog mother would walk around and follow me where ever I went. I don't know why this dog picked me and my house, but when I told my girlfriend about this, she said, "Dog pick you. You have good luck." I, being a farang, and not knowing the intricacies of Thai culture thought she was mad. But now, looking back, I understand what she meant. I was given the opportunity to learn something about compassion for another living creature.

Thanks Phil for the memories. I have other good Pattya moobarn stories, but I am too lazy to write about them now.

Late,

Raddemo

[Guest]

Thanks Phil, Rad,

Apart from being extremely funny the insights into everyday life are also very interesting indeed, I could read this stuff all day.

[Guest]

Scenes from the Moobarn Part 3

I don't want to give the impression that I ignore every Thai person who lives on my small soi - far from it. I'm particularly friendly with a couple who live about five doors down. They are both teachers at Ramkhamhaeng University and have two painfully shy daughters of about 14 years old. I was inevitably asked if it would be possible to teach them but I gave a flimsy excuse as to why I couldn't. 2 years later and I'm still dreaming up excuses. Who knows maybe in a couple of years time when the girls burst into full womanhood with pouting lips and rock hard breasts I might change my mind. Please understand though that this would be purely a professional arrangement.

The Ramkhamhaeng teacher couple will sometimes offer me a lift to the main road because we leave for work at about the same time, which although saving me 3 baht, means I have to make labored conversation at 8.00 in the morning - something I'm not particularly good at. It also means that I have to listen to Phil Collins Greatest Hits - the only in-car entertainment that the couple have.

There's an interesting couple who live about 100 metres down the soi - both the epitome of charm and politeness - they have a son whom I guess would be in his early 20's. The son is the classic case of the guy who's never been kissed. He obviously has no friends at all and his hobbies probably include collecting back issues of National Geographic and reading Chemistry textbooks. He wears what his mom buys for him. I saw him the other day in a pair of purple Pratu Naam market flares that finished a good six inches above his ankles, giving everyone a cheeky glimpse of a yellow patterned sock. Now where do I fit in all this? Well, the parents seem to think that I haven't got any friends either and wouldn't it be a spiffing idea if their offspring and I could get together for an evening of fireside chat."Would you like to come round and meet our son?" his father will say "He's about your age". Now I will admit that I'm flattered to be classed as mid-20's but not at all flattered that I look that desperate for a friend. And isn't it funny how polite you can be. I end up saying "Yes I'd love to get together with him but I'm rather busy at the moment" when I really mean "I've seen your son mate and between you and me he looks a right wanker".

[pattaya127]

In my moobaan too in Pattaya, there was afemale dog all beat up who used to hide under the parked cars. Never seen such a friendly dog in LOS. I would whistle and she would come out, wag her tail and it was a pure joy to feel that poor dog still had some confidence in humans. A german guy started to bring her food daily and then cleant her, and she started to lose all her open wounds and become part of the "family". Then i had to go home. my g/f, fatalistic like a thai buddhist told me "next time you come, dog dead". That was in February. Last month, she called me and told me not only the dog was still there, well taken care of, but she gave birth to puppies. Sure made my day! tear of joy, P127