I never say goodbye to this fast-paced city because I know I’ll always go back

June 25, 2026 — 5:00am

Bangkok was in a state of turmoil when I first arrived in the city. The airport had been shut down as political factions split Thailand in two, temporarily turning off the tap of tourist dollars that flowed into the country. My plane was one of the first to land once it opened up again and I was a small, insignificant drop from the tap.

Dodging between eager touts and my fellow tourists, I wound up in the back of a hot-pink taxi bound for Rambuttri Road. It had no seatbelts, which became problematic when my driver merged onto a Bangkok freeway, engaged his warp thrusters, and sent us hurtling towards our destination at the speed of sound.

Then sirens wailed, brakes slammed, and I was flung into the seat in front of me like a pickle against a McDonald’s window. My life flashed before my eyes (it made for mediocre viewing at the time) and all I could think was how unfair it was to die before I got to taste my first street pad Thai.

But when I opened my eyes, I realised that I wasn’t dead or in hell but on Chaturathit Road, which was being blocked by the longest motorcade I’d ever seen. Hundreds of police cars and black SUVs raced past, and I thought it might have something to do with the protests. Then my driver switched off the meter, sparked up a cigarette, and looked at me in the rearview with the most immense grin as his second-hand smoke coagulated with the sticky Bangkok air.

It was King Bhumibol the Great, or so he told me, and it was chok dee mak mak to catch him like this in the wild. This roughly translates into “very good luck”, although I wouldn’t know or appreciate it at the time. It would only be later that I recognised this luck as it echoed through some 20-odd trips to Bangkok, a city where I’ve been privileged enough to be welcomed as a lifelong guest.

I did, eventually, make it to Rambuttri Road, where I went in search of 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 rotation. The sink spat out brown muck and if you wanted the toilet or shower, that was down the hallway, where I used cold water to wash away the grime of my flight (although I had to pay 50 – about $2 – baht to rent a towel).

While this might sound terrible, I can’t help but look back on it with romantic nostalgia. The sweaty room, the leaky taps, and the cold showers. The smell of weed as it wafted into your room from the neighbouring window and the sounds of other people having sex beyond your paper-thin walls. It made you feel like you were the star in a long tracking shot directed by Martin Scorsese, and this whole scene was created just for you.

From these humble beginnings, my love for the city bloomed to the point where going to Bangkok now feels like coming home. It was the first city I went to after Australia dropped its COVID travel restrictions and the last place I’ll go before I die. Even if I could cheat death a little while longer by never coming back, the absence of this city would make those extra days on this Earth seem hardly worth it.

I no longer find myself back on Khao San or Rambuttri roads these days. That time has been and gone, the magic of it buried along with the dodgy internet cafes and the dog-eared guidebooks of the past.

But the beautiful thing about Bangkok is that it never loses its magic; you just have to go looking for it in different places.

I’ve found it on the rivers and in the khlongs (canals). It’s in the cocktail bars of Chinatown and the weird, Japanese-expat neighbourhood of Ekkamai, where you can drink highballs with salarymen like you’re living in some outer suburb of Tokyo. It’s in the street food and the night markets and the seafood of Samut Prakan, where a whole fried fish comes with a “salad” so spicy it will burn your eyebrows right off your happy face. I’ve found magic all over the city, and it still feels the same as that first brush with the king.

It’s like I’m back in that taxi, with joy in my heart, second-hand smoke in my lungs, and a whole lifetime of adventures in front of me. Call it fate, call it good luck, or simply call it a great city, Bangkok is the one place I can never say goodbye to, because I always know I’ll be coming back.