Walking through Bangkok is a shock to the senses.
Whizzing cars, abrupt voices, and indistinguishable dings, dongs, and beeps compete for attention. Different smells smack the nose around every which way—fish balls from the left, baked pastries from the right, sputtering engine fumes sneaking in between. These smells and sounds get trapped in the hot, humid air that greedily clings to every exposed inch of skin. It feels as if the essence of the city is smothering me in a big bear hug. My choice to step outside means it’s consensual.
Glistening golden temples, rickety street food carts, busy bodies, and all types of shops and eateries keep the vision guessing. My eyes greedily lap up every inch of each scene, driven by the fear of missing something extraordinary.
There are extraordinary things all around.
Monks guiding people in suits through a morning mediation. Three people on a motorbike with the person in the back clinging onto a flat screen TV. A man with a baby strapped to his chest while frying up some mystery meats at 7am. An impossibly small kitten donned in a hello kitty vest overlooking the bags of goldfish plopped on the sidewalk. Clumps of electrical wires draped through the sky.
There’s a feeling of lawlessness, yet everyone is following the rules.
Then there’s me.
A wandering tourist hungrily taking in each little scene. I’m both an intruder and a guest. I don’t feel like I belong, but each new vignette seems to welcome me in anyways.
Walking along the streets of Bangkok is total body experience, and one that I won’t soon forget.
