The coffee arrives at precisely the right temperature thanks to the barista who has mastered the art of the unhurried espresso. Outside, Bangkok's July morning unfolds with a kind of languid precision. It helps me understand why people fall in love with this city despite themselves. Tree-lined streets,
A million people used to live here. A million. At its peak, this was one of the largest cities in the world, which seems impossible when you're standing among what's left. Scattered ruins and tour groups.
Politics of Place
I paid for the patina of decay, the chipped paint, the reluctant plumbing, the night rat that emerged like an ellipsis. I wrapped it in the language of charm. But charm, I’ve come to understand, is often just hardship with an exit strategy.
Paying extra for slower travel sometimes buys you an education you can't get any other way.