Touched down in Bangkok the other day for the first time in 25 years. The smells—that odd mix of coriander and sewage—just as I remember, and just as intoxicating. But in my old neighbourhood the city has erupted upwards, turning to chrome or ribbons of concrete. Walked from Asoke to the Chao Phraya River, through the new glistening shopping district, then the ancient storefronts of golden Buddhas beyond that. As I neared the temple complexes along the river, bypassing the fast-talking tuk-tuk drivers under the spires of Wat Ratchabophit, the old Bangkok of my childhood sprang up and welcomed me, that blur of candy-coloured traffic.
geoffrey goddard on The surreality of the fam…