ThailandStories.com - Delightful Thai Wife In Europe

As usual, we wake up minutes before the alarm rings. In the fog of half-consciousness, she presses herself against me. We don't speak, but we hold to each other with every single pore that's within reach. More coverage is not.

"I want to crawl inside you", she whispers with closed eyes.

"You crawl into me", I ask? "Maybe you mix something here?"

"No, I want to crawl inside you! Then you can never divorce. Ha."

"Oh, no problem", I counter. "I could just have an operation to cut you out?" She just learnt "operation" in my language. I also turn off the alarm clock.

"No, this would be too much pain for you." "Pain" is another new word from the "hospital" chapter in her language book.

"I could have narcosis, no?" Also "narcosis" appeared in her school book.

"You wouldn't", she yawns and finds still one more pore to squeaze against me.

Spider in the House

On the corridor wall near the window, I spot a big black spider. I take immediate action:

1. I lock myself into the bathroom.

2. I shove a towel under the door slot.

3. I shout for my undeterred SE Asian wife. Fortunately we have a man in the house who can take care of serious threats like that.

"Nahlee, Nahlee – please come! There is a spider on the wall!"

My plan is that the wife gently takes the spider to its outside habitat, where it naturally belongs. (It's a freezing January.) I stay locked away, though, because Nahlee is known to pick two-pounder-12-legs-spiders off the wall, shove them right into my face and grin: "What’s wrong with a spider, sweetheart?!"

Nahlee approaches. "What – a spider? Where?"

"On the wall near the window."

"Where are you? Why do you scream from the bathroom?"

"Nahlee - would you remove the spider NOW??"

I hear a very solid PHLAAAPPPP. I hear the corridor window opened and closed. The spider is outside now, in its natural habitat, but not in its natural 3D state.

I unlock the bathroom and peek out. I take immediate verbal action: "Why did you kill the innocent little spider?! The animal does no harm, right?! You’re a buddhist, don’t you think this spider was people before!"

"Don’t know", she mumbles, "but if this spider was people before, now I helped him to come back as something better than a *spider*."

Slides of Memories

Nahlee likes to see the old slides I used to take on my travels. I say, see, here I have two magazines about Danmark.

So after dinner we cuddle up in the living room to do a real, old economy slide show with real Fujichrome 100 slides. I remember clearly the Danish beaches and cottages we will see. But then, on slide 1, I am reminded of something else we'll encounter soon: "Oh sorry, dear, there is another western girl friend on these slides, I wasn't alone on that trip..."

This is not a problem for her, she can see my western exes, albeit doesn't comment a lot about them.

As much as she likes a cozy slide-show evening with nibbles and wine on the couch, she refuses to see slides that include any previous *Asian* exes.

More Memories

We're in the car to visit Mary, John and their two kids. This will be a nice weekend with nice people.

Ten years ago, I loved Mary with every fibre of my body.

Only after Mary dropped me, I discovered SE Asia - full of Marys, only that of course they are called Malee locally. I'd write back to Mary: "You know, Mary, you're Caucasian but you were my first Asian loveress anyway." Black hair, huge eyes, a very feminine frame including a babyfriendly hip, and a soft, cat-like demeanour had had me down on my knees. When we discussed things, she'd go, "don't reason with 'logic'."

Of all my western exes, Mary was the 110 percent female, and that's what makes me surrender. She finally swapped me for another guy because - in an unwelcome attack of reason - she said my wandering habits weren't compatible with her longterm family plans.

All those Mary memories flood me while Nahlee and I drive over small winding provincial roads to visit Mary and family. I never told Nahlee about the flaming hot times Mary and I had. And why?

Funny enough, of all the nice westerners Nahlee knows, she seems to like Mary most. When she talks to Mary, Nahlee gets a confident, open voice that she uses with noone else, including me.

I pull the vehicle into the last district road before we reach our friendly destination. I wonder if Nahlee somehow knows about Mary's and me ten years ago? Maybe Mary has told Nahlee long ago?

But maybe not, because now Nahlee says: "Of all your lady friends, Mary is a full woman. A full woman! I like that. I don't know why you didn't marry her ten years ago!"

Gardening

On the terrace, I soon observe a growing string of pots for chili, allium, lemongrass, Thai and Italian basil and other exotic plants. She found them on several markets, and the chili is propagated further by offsets.

Actually, there are internet stores that sell ten different kinds of chili plants. Nahlee can't read the information, but she always points to the pictures of those spices that get 10 of 10 points on the vendor's spicy scale. She clearly knows which little red one gives the most bang for the buck.

Together with the flowers we have anyway, she loves her potted friends dearly. Watering her flowers and spice plants after school seems her preferred means of unwinding.

The Woollen Pullover

In the basement, in a dark corner around the washing machine, she discovers something I have already forgotten for a few years: a filthy woollen pullover. Once it had been nice. Then I gave it a Hans Meier expert wash, and it shrinked down to 30 percent of its original size. I left it to rot in the basement.

But now the thing has just her size. "What is this, dear", she inquires? "Why is it so old and rotten?"

She washes it carefully with her hand, not before I have finally researched scientific information about how to wash woollen things. After that, the pullover looks quite decent again.

Two days later, Ning appears for breakfast in a woollen pullover that looks like it's not at all too old. Actually, it is the first time I see my bronze blackhaired hot country lady in a woollen outfit - and it suits her well! I had believed that winter clothing might look stupid on her, but not so: She looks just great.

"You know what", I tell her? "Woollen pullovers still have a bit of lanolin to them, that’s the wool fat from the sheep."

She looks worried, slightly disgusted.

"No", I say, "that’s good: The lanolin keeps off smells and dirt. The woollen pullover will feel fresh for much longer than cotton."

"Oh, really", she says? "That’s interesting."

She ponders for a while. Then she says:

"I like that lanolin thing. So I can wear the pullover all winter long, and wash it in summer."

Banking

She is my favorite bank clerk here in my Farangland small town. She has this witty smile, this ease in her actions that really attracts me. No tapir either. Occasionally she sent me faxes or e-mails from the bank that sounded just a tad more private than you would expect from your bank clerk. Or was it merely her personal style? Did I fancy too much? I have no idea if she is single or not, you know. And we never exchanged any private word - for years I had had no idea how to invite her out when talking in a small town bank hall.

Now Nahlee and I stand at the counter. Who approaches to serve us? SHE, my favorite bank clerk! Can it be that, seeing us, she looks a bit more sceptical, is not completely her humorous entertaining self?

"We would like to create a bank account for my wife", I say. Can it be that, hearing me, she looks one more bit sceptical?

A lot of paper work ensues. Then a question of hers comes back. Is her witty smile on the return or not? Is it just her personal style or actual irony:

"Do you want a mandate over her account," she asks? This I confirm.

And then one more question. Don't ask me if her smile is just friendly or ironic:

"And do you want to give your wife a mandate over *your* existing account?"