382. | Bangkok, You Are Gorgeous

I have arrived in Cambodia. I knew I would return.

How else could I continue my Saturday, following the flight?

I’ll write down my thoughts regarding Bangkok. (Of course, then another idea came along. I put together the “Is There Anything Left?” video and its accompanying post. So now, on Sunday, I’m continuing with the writing.)

Shopping Malls Squared

I visited a shopping mall on both Thursday and Friday.

It was a strange experience. A few weeks ago, on the island of Koh Samui, I stopped by a shopping mall before heading to a party—the kind where the aisles seem to stretch on into infinity. It struck me then just how much my life has changed; I used to visit a store of that scale at least once a week, yet over the past year, I’ve only set foot in one—maybe twice—at most.

So, it was a peculiar experience—all the more so because these malls were larger than any I had ever seen before, and I happened to visit one on two consecutive days.

But I didn’t go for the merchandise. Both locations promised a visual spectacle I didn’t want to miss: a towering, gingerbread-themed Christmas tree courtesy of Dior, and a dachshund the size of a truck. I felt I simply had to see them. To be honest, I might have skipped the second mall, but it happened to be right on my way to a cultural event.

What can I say? For a few hours over those two days, I became a tourist. I didn’t mind the role at all—especially since I have no money to spend and absolutely no need for any of the products on offer.

Siam Paragon Shopping Mall (November 12, 2026)

For me, sightseeing of this kind always involves walking. Visiting this shopping mall meant covering 20 km on foot. (In total, I managed to walk 72 km during my five days in Bangkok.) While walking—as is almost always the case—I simply enjoy the act of existing. See my post titled “Let Me Show You The World In My Eyes!”

This part of Bangkok is crowded. Almost every square meter is packed with something: parked cars, abandoned carts, spirit houses, signs, restaurants, shops. With every step, something new catches the eye.

There are colorful houses and an abundance of plants—often with flowers growing right on the tree trunks. I crossed several bridges and, for long stretches, walked parallel to a canal. All of this unfolded amidst the vibrant colors of a bright, sunny day and on remarkably clean streets. As I walked through the everyday living spaces of the local people, I discovered countless small details—things that were beautiful or simply ingenious.

I loved watching the elderly people working by the roadside and the children in school uniforms running about, full of joy. I soaked up the sunshine—even though it ended up burning my head—and appreciated the breeze that cooled my back. And, with immense happiness, I listened to my music.

Here are a few images of what I saw during my walk.

I gradually arrived in a land of multi-story buildings and Christmas. The old town was slowly replaced by the modern, cosmopolitan world. I felt like a dwarf in the shadow of these colossal structures. Shop windows and billboards shouted at me that Christmas was just around the corner—the holiday of the commercial world. LOL. I can’t really complain, though; after all, it was a Christmas tree that set me off on this journey in the first place.

Gray concrete and worn, aged wood gave way to marble, glass, plastic, and glitter.

I had arrived in a world of opulence.

Even though I’m not—and perhaps never have been—a fan of this kind of splendor, I still found myself standing there with my mouth agape. I got the distinct feeling that even a whole sack of money wouldn’t be enough to shop here. Everything one could possibly desire—for the eyes and the palate—was on display. I saw something similar in “Little China” a few days ago; how vastly different that bustling scene is from this one!

I got back home after dark. Once again, I had the chance to witness a stark contrast—this time between the dazzling lights and the surrounding opulence. Bangkok is a magnificent city. Yet, as I returned home today, the same thought occupied my mind that had been there for the past few days:

Sleeping on the street is not magnificent. Regardless of whether Christmas is coming or not.

Iconisam Shopping Mall (November 13, 2026)

It was Friday the 13th.

I started the morning by thoroughly photographing my room. I’ll be writing a post about this place next week—titled “Shithole.” By way of explaining this not-so-flattering title, I should mention upfront that I actually enjoyed staying here. After all, it was my home for a few days and nights.

Today, I explored a different part of the city. The scenario was much like yesterday’s: I made my way from the old town into an area filled with high-rise buildings. The only difference was that, today, it was already getting dark by the time I arrived amidst all the splendor.

To be honest, I didn’t bother counting how many floors this building had. I walked all around it and took plenty of photos—though there’s probably even more I didn’t capture! LOL.

Of everything I saw, the rooftop terrace was the most memorable. Looking out at the metropolis at night… I’ve seen images like this countless times before. But this was the first time I was witnessing with my own eyes something I had previously only been able to imagine. This sight is far more magnificent than the luxury the shops keep thrusting in my face.

I am grateful to my life for the fact that I could see this (too). I wish everyone could experience things like this.

Fireworks and Drone Show

The main goal for today was to catch a famous fireworks and drone show.

It turned out along the way that the drone show takes place before the fireworks, so I missed it (this time). I couldn’t really bring myself to be upset about it, though. The journey is endless, and opportunities always lie ahead. Some I take, some I don’t. This one just didn’t happen. Maybe next time—as the saying goes.

I did, however, make it in time for the fireworks. By the time I walked to the location—near the Krung Thep Bridge, where the spectacle was held—a large crowd was already waiting. I managed to find a spot where I could enjoy the show from up close.

All I can say is that it was truly beautiful. I’ll share my experience in a video as part of “The Miracle Is Already Here” series.

There must be something wrong with me! LOL. As I was writing this, I immediately decided to put together a video. I spent a good half-hour on it. The truth is, I enjoy doing this—and I love seeing the final result even more. Plus, I could certainly use the practice in video editing. And, on top of that, I hope it brings a bit of joy to a few people.

Here is the finished video.

Lost in the City

I set off for home.

I knew my eSIM was set to expire today. I had actually purchased a new plan the day before, but I hadn’t activated it yet.

I found myself caught in a bit of a timing trap. I expected my internet connection to cut out today, but I anticipated it happening later—around midnight. So, I was quite taken aback when, at 10:00 PM, I completely lost my bearings on the edge of a massive roundabout.

What’s a wanderer to do in a situation like this? I bought a bottle of beer and an ice cream, then sat down on the ground next to the door of a 7-Eleven. I played a few rounds of a card game, listened to some music, and enjoyed my beer—all while waiting for someone to come along from whom I could beg for internet access. It’s ironic, really: there were only a few cardboard boxes separating me from two actual beggars. We must have looked quite the sight to passersby—three beggars in total: one “luxury” beggar, and two “professional” ones…

No one showed up. So, after an hour, I moved on. I embarked on an exciting hunt for free Wi-Fi. Sometimes, you stumble upon a network that isn’t password-protected. It’s a bit risky, but you *can* use them. (Though, naturally, my “IT security” persona wouldn’t advise this.) This time, however, there were no such networks to be found. Everyone protects themselves with those pesky passwords. And, unfortunately, I’m no hacker.

I still had one other option. I also hoped that a random turn might lead me to a familiar establishment—a McDonald’s, a Starbucks, or somewhere with free Wi-Fi. Of course, that evening, there wasn’t a single one to be found anywhere.

Then it dawned on me—not for the first time, I might add—that I could still navigate. The map works even without a network connection; only the route-planning feature stops working. In other words, I could see my current location on the map. Since, after four days, I already knew where my accommodation was marked, I was able to head in the right direction. I didn’t know exactly how far I had to go, but in that situation, it hardly mattered whether it was another 5 or 7 kilometers. As it turned out, the total distance by the end of the day was 23 kilometers.

So, I set off toward my accommodation. Then, naturally, just three minutes after I’d given up my futile and pointless search for a network, I spotted a small gaming arcade. It was a computer café; a guy was just walking out and held the door open for me. Even though the place was already closed, two young men were still inside. I explained that I needed a few minutes of Wi-Fi. They were happy to help—I asked for bits instead of a bite to eat, and they obliged. One of the guys even pulled up a chair for me. It was heartening to know they hadn’t left me to fend for myself in my predicament.

A few minutes later, I thanked them for their help with deep, respectful bows. And once again, as a well-prepared digital nomad, I continued my journey.

A Framed Structure

I feel as though I’ve lived through many experiences, and I’ve written about quite a few of them here.

I wanted to save the most significant ones—at least to me—for the end.

In Hanoi, I found a pair of high-quality Crocs under my bed—I wrote about that earlier. Those sandals traveled with me from Vietnam to Cambodia, and from there, on to Thailand.

For a while now, the thought has been lingering in my mind that I don’t actually have any need for these sandals.

In Phuket, my friends gave me a few new T-shirts, leaving me with an excess of them. I selected three from my collection and, along with the sandals, packed them into my backpack before heading out to explore the city.

I knew I would come across the man to whom I wanted to give them. He was sitting beneath a utility pole near the shopping mall. I crouched down beside him, greeted him, and handed over the bundle. I wasn’t looking for a sparkle in his eyes; I didn’t need to hear him say “thank you!” in perfect English. I didn’t need anything in return—just as, perhaps, he didn’t truly need these items.

Sometimes, I just want to jot down a single phrase, and then let life—or someone else—continue the narrative. This act of giving was one such fragment of a sentence.

As I left the mall, I spotted another beggar on the steps. For some reason, I had a feeling he might want a smoke. As it happened, I had some cigarettes with me. I gave him a cigarette and lit it for him. Neither of us said a word. His eyes spoke. That was more than enough.

Then, I handed the last few cigarettes—along with the pack—to another old man sitting a few kilometers away, who was just getting ready to turn in for the night. He gave me a huge smile once he realized I hadn’t approached him as a threat.

I still had a few kilometers to go before reaching home when I spotted another elderly man moving slowly, in a strange, painful way. 2 USD (70 THB, 700 HUF). That was all the money I had left—I’d set it aside for a coffee in the morning. Giving it to that man wasn’t a sacrifice; it was a joy. It was a joy to step up to him. I greeted him respectfully, then held out the small sum. He took it and thanked me in Thai.

The things I gave away to others today hold almost no material value. Yet, they gave a sense of completeness to my journey. And in return, I received words in two different languages.

I hope I never forget the lesson Bangkok taught me: “For what you have given away is the only thing that is truly yours…”