Leaving Bangkok today after a whirlwind trip, visiting schools, delivering workshops, and creating with kids and feeling both sad for leaving, but energized by a sense of purpose.
It’s been almost ten years since I’ve been to this city and as I trod back to my hotel last night, I made sure to cherish my surroundings, this experience. Bangkok has a throbbing pulse, an unceasing rhythm. It’s a place that’s alive, in every sense of the word.
Narrow sidewalks (or none at all!) means it is impossible to not become part of this rhythm, to not live the heartbeat of the city. One minute, a scooter is zipping past you, the next you pass a trio of teens taking selfies on the corner, then an old woman grilling street meat, followed by an even older woman selling bottles of water, maybe a monk swathed in orange robes in humble sandals or bare feet. In one breath you will see abject poverty and undeniable beauty. The partitions here are translucent.
I will remember the sounds of honking, of early-morning devotion to the monks, the calls of hello on the street (“Sawasdee ka!”). I will remember the candy-pink bottles of soda sitting on the Buddhist street shrines, the trees defying the cement of the city with their roots and branches and determination, and the pink blush of the sky at sunset. I will remember the feel of the swelter on my skin, the stickiness around my collar, the relief of a cool shower. I will remember the taste of sweet chili spice and succulent mangos, the crunch of Thai rose apples (my favourite!).
But I hope I will not have to remember them for too long! In the meantime, thank you, Bangkok, for a bit of rejuvenation. And a thank you to the schools, too, for hosting me . . . though I feel there will be another post coming, eventually, when I have further time to reflect.
Between the Cracks of Here and There 