I arrived in Bangkok at eight o’clock this morning.
And yet, at four o’clock yesterday afternoon, I had no idea this was going to happen.
The digital nomad lifestyle has shifted into warp speed.
I’m Setting Off
I spent the last few days in high spirits, filled with laughter—and in good company.
Then came the moment when I was dealt two heavy blows, followed by the declaration: “If you don’t like it, there’s the door.” I took a moment to consider how wise it was to say that to someone like me. I’m a digital nomad; I can pack up all my belongings in three minutes. The tension within me escalated so rapidly that I didn’t have to think twice. I packed my things.
I closed the door behind me and sat down for a coffee a few hundred meters away. Within five minutes, I had decided whether to stay on the island or head elsewhere. Another ten minutes later, I had secured accommodation for the night and a flight ticket to Bangkok.
I’m Arriving
I arrived in the metropolis this morning.
Stepping out of the airport, I sat down on a stone. In 10 minutes, I consulted with an AI to determine which part of the city would be the best place to start. I booked my room and ordered a taxi.
The summary, then, is quite simple.
The door closes. 25 minutes of work, and I’m 500 kilometers away. A few decisions, a flight, and 18 hours later, I find myself in a place I hadn’t even imagined being just yesterday morning.
This trip to Bangkok was planned for Friday. I have another plane ticket for Saturday—to Cambodia.
Why is it good here?
It’s good here simply because I finally have the time to get to know this city.
This is my fifth time in this city. On three of those previous visits, I only stayed at the airport, and once I spent a single night in an outer district.
So far today, I’ve walked 15 kilometers—and I’m still going.
Including tonight, I’ll be spending a total of 5 nights here.
Little China
Throughout my long walk today, I felt as if I were in China. I’m in the old town.
I walked along endless rows of shops. You can find absolutely anything you could possibly imagine here. I could call it “the usual”—after all, I’ve seen this sort of thing a few times before—but the sheer scale is surprising. When you walk for a full kilometer with vendors lining both sides of the street, one after another… well, that’s something else.
I visited a flower market. It covers an area the size of a small village. It was wonderful to take in the scents of a hundred different types of flowers.
I also enjoyed watching the food vendors. Sure, there are some unpleasant smells—that’s just part and parcel of a market—but they aren’t what dominates. There are such intense, rich aromas stretching on for hundreds of meters that even after a hearty lunch, you’d find yourself feeling hungry again.
Temples. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve seen across Asia, yet the splendor I witnessed here still took me by surprise. During my walk, I witnessed such a magnificent explosion of color that my chewing gum nearly fell right out of my open mouth—all of it completely by chance. I crossed paths with three or four temples today—both Buddhist and Hindu.
I’m staying in the kind of shared accommodation I’ve grown accustomed to: a livable room, a clean bathroom, and a common area suitable for getting some work done. There’s also a young kitten here that suddenly decided it wanted to get cozy on my lap. I loved having it lie there for ten minutes, soaking up the pets.
My first day in this metropolis has been exciting and vibrant. And soon, I’ll be heading out to explore the old town by night.
As for the truth of the following statement—well, that remains to be seen.
One night in Bangkok. A single night in Bangkok can teach even the toughest person a lesson in humility.
Postscript
I had planned to publish this post after my evening walk—yesterday, in fact. But that didn’t happen. Let me explain why.
This part of Bangkok is truly beautiful at night. The temples and their surroundings are a magnificent sight, especially in the moonlight I witnessed yesterday.
The streets were full of people—mostly young—walking, sitting, and chatting. I always enjoy watching such scenes. I sat down near a small Hindu shrine to chat and observe the people. Suddenly, a group of police officers appeared just five meters away from me. They spent half an hour taking promotional photos; the team looked quite striking in their full gear.
This stood in stark contrast to the grimy skin and clothing of the people sleeping on the streets. I was surprised by how many people were sleeping outdoors—I kept stumbling upon them at every turn: in the doorways of beautiful temples, in front of shops, and around the corners of buildings. Some had blankets—though they’re hardly needed here—and I even saw one person using a water bottle as a pillow. There were men and women, young and old alike.
They all shared one thing in common: their bed was the hard concrete.
It was particularly difficult to walk past a long stretch where 10 to 15 people lay one after another—much like the dormitory-style accommodation I returned to later that night. Where, instead of concrete, a firm mattress awaited me.
Earlier that afternoon, I had thought my bed was hard.
After my walk, I lay down on that firm mattress—weighed down by heavy thoughts—only to realize it was far, far softer than the concrete of the streets.
I consider myself a humble person. Or, at the very least, humbler than I once was. I set out into the city carrying an unspoken question. Bangkok immediately taught me exactly what I needed to learn yesterday. I take this realization with me. From now on, I shall think of my bed with much greater humility…
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