Is Bangkok a good city to visit? Why I keep going back to Thailand’s capital
Idea
In this series called My Happy Place, our writers reflect on the holiday destinations they cherish most in Australia and around the world.
When I first arrived in the city, Bangkok was in turmoil. The airport was closed because political factions divided Thailand and the flow of tourist dollars into the country was temporarily cut off. My plane was one of the first to land when it reopened, and I was a small, insignificant drop from the tap.
As I dodged my way through excited touts and my fellow tourists, I found myself in the back of a bright pink taxi heading towards Rambuttri Road. There were no seatbelts, and this became problematic when my driver pulled onto the Bangkok highway, activated his warp thrusters, and launched us towards our destination at the speed of sound.
Then the sirens blared, the brakes slammed, and I was thrown into the seat in front of me like a pickle hitting a McDonald’s window. My life flashed before my eyes (which made for mediocre viewing at the time) and all I could think was how unfair it was to die without tasting my first street pad Thai.
But when I opened my eyes I realized I wasn’t dead or in hell, I was on Chaturathit Road, blocked by the longest convoy I’ve ever seen. Hundreds of police cars and black SUVs sped past me, and I thought it might have something to do with the protests. Then my driver turned off the meter, lit a cigarette, and looked at me with a huge smile in the rearview mirror as his second-hand smoke clotted with the sticky Bangkok air.
He was King Bhumibol the Great, or so he told me. so much mak mak to capture it this way in the wild. This roughly translates to “very good luck”, but I didn’t know or appreciate that at the time. Only later did I realize that this good fortune was echoed during the 20-odd trips I made to Bangkok, where I was privileged to be treated as a guest for life.
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I finally made it to Rambuttri Road and there I went looking for the cheapest guesthouse on the strip. For five dollars a night, I got a single room with a lumpy bed, a threadbare blanket, and a ceiling fan that squeaked ominously with every turn. Brown gunk was gushing from the sink, and if you wanted a toilet or shower it was down the hall, where I used cold water to wash away the dirt from my flight (though I did have to pay 50 baht – about $2 – to rent a towel).
As terrible as this sounds, I can’t help but look back with romantic nostalgia. Sweaty room, leaky taps and cold showers. The smell of weed wafting into your room from the neighbor’s window and the sounds of other people having sex beyond your paper-thin walls. Directed by Martin Scorsese, he made you feel like a star in a long tracking shot, and this entire scene was created just for you.
From these humble beginnings, my love for the city has grown to the point where going to Bangkok now feels like coming home. It was the first city I went to after Australia lifted COVID travel restrictions and the last place I would go before I die. Even if I could cheat death for a while by never returning again, the absence of this city meant that the extra days on this Earth were hardly worth it.
These days I no longer find myself on Khao San or Rambuttri roads. That period passed and passed; Its magic has been buried along with the dodgy internet cafes and pointed directories of the past.
But the beauty of Bangkok is that it never loses its magic; you just have to look for it in different places.
I found it in rivers and khlongs (canals). In the cocktail bars of Chinatown and Ekkamai, the weird, Japanese immigrant neighborhood where you can drink with salarymen as if you were living in the outer suburbs of Tokyo. In street food, night markets and Samut Prakan’s seafood, whole fried fish is accompanied by a “salad” so spicy it will burn your eyebrows from your happy face. I found magic all over the city and it still feels the same as when I first met the king.
It’s like I’m back in that taxi with joy in my heart, second-hand smoke in my lungs, and a lifetime of adventures ahead of me. Call it fate, call it good luck, or just call it a wonderful city, Bangkok is the one place I can never say goodbye to because I always know I’ll be back.
Paul Marshall is a Sydney-based travel writer who has his heart set on the Banana Pancake Trail. With over 10 years of experience in the film, television and video game industries, he now writes about his former life as a digital nomad and is always planning his next escape. She loves a little-known destination and an offbeat adventure, whether it’s cycling in Korea or living in a Japanese fishing village.Connect via email.
