You hear Thai voices outside and you know that the van it is here. The larger immigrant community in Johor have their own ethnic hangouts, but the smaller ones have to make do with such mobile stores. The van has stuff from all over Thailand — condiments, snacks and food. Half a dozen Thai women are around the truck, grabbing the best stuff. I know better not to join the raid — I will not stand a chance. These ladies are from the neighborhood Thai spas. They get stronger by the day, squeezing, stretching, and manipulating out of shape, big car driving neighborhood clientele. I let them have their pick. I concentrate all my gaze on that box of pad-kra-pao-gai (minced chicken), hoping that I can turn it invisible till the ladies leave.