Bangkok. The Khao San Road.

Bangkok, Thailand
Bangkok. The Khao San Road. Where one can see all the people of the world just by sitting at a cafe and watching The Road. People of every fashion, of every hair style, of every skin color, of every nationality, walk by.

I’m at a restaurant called Siam. It’s open 24 hours a day because there are people on The Road 24 hours a day. I made a point to park myself at a roadside venue where I can get a feel of The Road in an attempt to convey it to you most accurately.

My dinner comes in a carved out pineapple filled with rice, chicken, and fruit. I sit under the canopy knowing it’s the rainy season and the skies are dark. A couple of drops of rain hit the canvas above. Then the skies open up. Within seconds the crowded road is deserted and the vendors cover their wares with plastic. The rains pass in a few minutes and, aside from a few puddles, it’s as if nothing happened. The Road fills back up with an eclectic group of people.

And I continue observing.

The Road is like deja vu. As I walk down it I could swear I see the same shirts, the same CDs, the same children selling roses, the same restaurants, the same internet cafes, the same 7-Elevens, the same dreadlock stalls, the same people trying to sell me stuff that I don’t need or want. But the truth is that it is a road of repetition. What you don’t get at one store, you can at the next, or the next.

The buildings are no more than five or six stories. Most are guesthouses up above and stores and stalls below.

The flow of people is unrelenting in both directions.

A variety of music is being played from the CD stall next to the restaurant. Believable imitation CDs are sold for $2.50, but you can probably get them down to a buck. A guy dances to the music as he passes by.

Daylight is being overcome by clouds and the setting of the sun. I’m approached by people trying to sell me jewelry, oversized cigarette lighters, flying plastic butterflies, or Finding Nemo hats. Lighted and neon signs are more apparent now as twilight has unceremoniously arrived.

The flow of people never ceases.

Like every day since we arrived in Thailand four weeks ago, my brow perspires even with inactivity. The heat, the humidity is only escaped by seeking refuge in an air conditioned room. I dab my forehead with a napkin and I’m again approached by a 10 year old boy who I recognize from last night. He wants donations for his schooling. Sadly, I take little notice of him. I shake my head and he moves on to the next table of Westerners.

The pile of sweat-saturated napkins add up on the small plastic table.

Backpackers with their enormous packs walk by. They are on their way out or on their way in. If I could read their eyes, the ones on the way out would be a bit sad, but ready for the next adventure. The ones on the way in would be overwhelmed and not sure what to expect. I am neither arriving nor departing, not leaving or going. I am just…here.

From next door, Beyonce sings the lyrics “…crazy right now…” But I doubt that she’s walked the Khao San Road. This is crazy. Last night we celebrated with the Swedes. It was their last night in Bangkok and Thailand and Asia and the conclusion of their year-long travels. The Road consumed us as we went from place to place imbuing into our minds fleeting memories.

Maybe that’s the reason I sat down at this table on this night on this road: I knew that memories converge, then fade away. Maybe by writing them down they’ll stick around awhile. Maybe the sites and the faces will remain fresh. Maybe I won’t ever be back here.

Twilight is usurped by night and the flow of people is still unrelenting on the Khao San Road.