Matt Owens Rees

Although I feel happily married in Thailand, I still think about how I’m coping with what is, in reality, a very unusual lifestyle—and whether I’m truly integrating into this country.

I don’t think marrying Toy was love on the rebound. I don’t believe it was a reaction to failed Western marriages. We’d had some fun together, and she’s a most caring lady. We’re blissful enough and enjoy each other’s company.

We don’t see much of each other during the day. I’m at my computer; she’s teaching in the classroom. Computers can be addictive, but I get genuine pleasure from watching YouTube and the UK TV channels.

If I need a break, I’ll do a few chores around the house.

Some days, I take her to school and we have lunch together. Perhaps each day is getting a little repetitive.

I help out teaching English at Toy’s school. Nothing serious—reciting nursery rhymes, pointing to parts of the body and asking the youngsters for the name in English, teaching them colours, counting from one to ten, and other light exercises.

I enjoy it. They enjoy it.

I do get tired quickly, which the teachers have noticed, and they’ve expressed concern.

Having now taught in a modest sort of way, I’ve come to appreciate just how exhausted and stressed teachers can get when standing in front of 30 to 40 pupils all day long.

I like to have a coffee with a few friends every Friday, but because Toy goes upstairs whenever a farang comes round to see me, we now always meet at a local coffee shop.

She’s rather shy—but only with farangs. With her Thai friends, she’s perfectly at ease. Sometimes she’s made arrangements for the day and I’ve had to cancel at the last minute.

It’s a pleasant break for me when I go out for a coffee. Daniel sometimes joins us for our Friday get-together, and we often talk about expats in Thailand and how some fit in better than others.

Over a few coffees, we pieced together some short pen portraits of those we know. I don’t always agree with Daniel and the others. I think they’re being a bit too critical and analytical; they think I see only what I want to see.

Paul is an interesting character. He lives just a few hundred yards away on my housing development. I fell out with him over some trivial matter and neither of us would back down. We don’t speak anymore.

I admit I spend some time surfing the Thai internet forums, as I did in the UK. Paul appears to spend all his time glued to a computer screen.

He’s a bit contrarian—always disagreeing with whatever a poster says. That seems par for the course on almost all Thai forums. New members, especially, get a right old bashing in the flame wars. Social media can be like that.

Does the lack of face-to-face contact bring out the worst in people? They can hide behind their pseudonyms.

I tend to skip those arguments and read only topics of interest and those that may be useful. I read more than I post. Most expats say they do the same.

Take the posts with a pinch of salt, but surf a few forums for yourself and you’ll get what I mean.

The least biased forum for farangs, in my view, is andrew-drummond.com, run by a freelance journalist with experience in the UK press. He’s a bit of a terrier when it comes to discussing expat issues. Once he takes up a reader’s case, he rarely lets go.

He’s uncovered many injustices towards foreigners in Thailand. As an ex–News of the World journalist, he can be a bit sensationalist. It goes with the job, I suppose.

His combative style often draws out the grumpier expats, who respond with their own bleak takes on Thailand.

Matt and I agreed that, although some posters can see both sides of an issue, most seem to be either Thai bashers or Thai apologists—taking extreme views, as if everything in this country were only ever black or white.

I think some of the bashers have been badly burned here and have lost a great deal of money. The bulk of their life savings may have disappeared through property scams or by putting everything in the name of a Thai wife or girlfriend.

The Thai apologists never admit to anything being wrong about Thailand.

Forum posters argue about dual pricing and what they consider bias against the farang when it comes to resolving disputes. They have a point, but they rarely consider the Thai side of the argument.

Paul is a basher if ever there was one. In small doses, he was thought-provoking to talk to, but many of his stories seemed a bit far-fetched.

To be fair, he was more reasonable in normal face-to-face conversation.

Forums where you post anonymously can make some posters more aggressive. Toy hated him and would never speak to him.

Then there’s Alfie, whom we know only through an internet forum—a complete contrast. He’s a model Thai apologist.

His standard response to a news report on the murder rate or road fatality figures in Thailand is to say that you get violent deaths in all countries. Of course, he’s right. The issue, though, is that it happens more here than elsewhere.

He won’t accept that. To him, the garden always looks beautiful—so long as he’s wearing his rose-tinted glasses. I hope I’m more objective, not so easily swayed by extremes.

But I probably do push the more unpleasant aspects of life here to the back of my mind.

It’s a mai pen rai response, I think. If you can’t change it, why dwell on it? Let it go. It won’t change anything. That’s the Thai reasoning—and it applies to both Thai and foreign customers.

Daniel said that Thais are very aware of what foreigners think of them. They may not show it, but they’re listening. He believes they’re more sensitive to criticism than we realise, especially when it comes from someone they know personally.

He told me about a neighbour who stopped speaking to him after he made a passing comment about corruption. Nothing dramatic—just a remark about how things worked differently in the West.

The neighbour didn’t argue. He just quietly disengaged.

Daniel thinks that’s why some Thais prefer their farang partners to stay quiet in public. Not just about politics, but about anything that might reflect badly on Thailand. It’s not censorship—it’s more like social self-preservation.

Alfie, on the other hand, insists that Thais are proud of their country and don’t need foreigners to validate it. He says we should adapt, not analyse.

I find that view a bit rigid, but it’s common among long-term expats who’ve gone native.

Paul would scoff at that. He thinks most farangs are being taken for a ride. He once said, “If you’re not being scammed, you’re not paying attention.”

I don’t agree, but I understand where he’s coming from. He’s been burned more than once.

Toy listens to these conversations with quiet interest. She rarely comments, but I know she’s thinking about what’s being said. Sometimes she’ll ask me later, “Why did Daniel say that?” or “Is Paul angry with Thailand?”

I try to explain, but it’s not easy. These conversations are—part frustration, part affection, part confusion. We’re all trying to make sense of a place that doesn’t always explain itself. And maybe that’s the point.

Daniel said that Thais are very aware of what foreigners think of them. They may not show it, but they’re listening. He believes they’re more sensitive to criticism than we realise, especially when it comes from someone they know personally.

I don’t agree, but I understand where he’s coming from. He’s been burned more than once.

Toy listens to these conversations with quiet interest. She rarely comments, but I know she’s thinking about what’s being said. Sometimes she’ll ask me later, “Why did Daniel say that?” or “Is Paul angry with Thailand?”

I try to explain, but it’s not easy. These are layered conversations—part frustration, part affection, part confusion. We’re all trying to make sense of a place that doesn’t always explain itself. And maybe that’s the point.

Daniel said that Thais are very aware of what foreigners think of them. They may not show it, but they’re listening. He believes they’re more sensitive to criticism than we realise, especially when it comes from someone they know personally.

He told me about a neighbour who stopped speaking to him after he made a passing comment about how things worked differently in the West. The neighbour didn’t argue. He just quietly disengaged.

Daniel thinks that’s why some Thais prefer their farang partners to stay quiet in public. Not just about politics, but about anything that might reflect badly on Thailand. It’s not censorship—it’s more like social self-preservation.

Alfie, on the other hand, insists that Thais are proud of their country and don’t need foreigners to validate it. He says we should adapt, not analyse.

I find that view a bit rigid, but it’s common among long-term expats who’ve gone native.

Paul would scoff at that. He thinks most farangs are being taken for a ride. He once said, “If you’re not being scammed, you’

Alfie, on the other hand, insists that Thais are proud of their country and don’t need foreigners to validate it. He says we should adapt, not analyse. I find that view a bit rigid, but it’s common among long-term expats who’ve gone native.

Paul would scoff at that. He thinks most farangs are being taken for a ride. He once said, “If you’re not being scammed, you’re not paying attention.” I don’t agree, but I understand where he’s coming from. He’s been burned more than once.

He’s cautious now, almost to a fault. The kind of caution that doesn’t just check the fine print—it reads between the lines, then asks who wrote them and why.

I’ve seen it calcify into mistrust, but I’ve also seen it protect him from the sort of entanglements that leave others scrambling for face-saving exits.

It’s not paranoia. It’s pattern recognition.