Bangkok Through Simona's View

We arrived at Sharjah airport in the early morning hours, still under the cover of darkness. The roads were virtually empty, making the airport’s hustle and bustle all the more surprising. After checking our bags and breezing through security, we found ourselves with some time to kill. As we walked toward our gate, the kids spotted a play area, so once we found a place to settle down, I took the two youngest ones there to let them burn off some energy before our six-hour flight.

The flight was actually pretty good. We even got fed this time! Although, despite our best efforts to pick non-spicy options for the kids, we ended up with these fiery Indian-Thai variations. Once again, the snacks we packed saved them from certain starvation.

Our First Stop in Asia

Thanks to the three-hour time jump, we landed in Bangkok in the evening, so we didn’t see a single ray of sunshine that day. We squeezed through the crowds of arriving tourists—mostly Chinese, by the look of it—into the priority lane. At immigration, they scanned our faces and took our fingerprints. Once we were officially in the database, we went hunting for an ATM because, in Thailand, cash is still king. Afterward, we found a booth to buy tokens for the Skytrain. Luckily, we managed to squeeze in, even though it was packed. The train ran on tracks high above the ground, so if it hadn’t been dark, we would’ve had a great view of the city.

While going through the turnstiles, the staff kept insistently directing me to a special lane for mothers with children because I had Simeon in a carrier. This happened throughout our entire stay, even when there was no crowd at all. So while the guys were already on the other side, I’d be sent back with a smile to use the “better” lane, which honestly just slowed me down.

When we finally stepped out onto the street, we were hit by that evening humidity. Back in the Emirates, it was a dry, desert heat; here, it was thick. We got a bit lost looking for a bus stop to get to our place, but since traffic looked insane and there wasn’t a bus in sight, Johnny decided to just call a taxi. Thankfully, we got to wait out the traffic jam in a nice, air-conditioned car.

At the accommodation, Johnny spent a good while trying to figure out how to punch in the code for the gate since he couldn’t get the display to wake up. We were saved by one last random tap that finally lit up the screen and opened the gate. Ahead of us was a gloriously steep staircase with no elevator. We were staying on the third floor. While Johnny and Leo lugged their suitcases up, I handed Simeon over to Matyas and, through pure willpower, hauled my 20kg suitcase up those stairs. I stumbled a few times and almost took a tumble, but all those years of navigating playground obstacles back home had prepared me for this moment. I made it.

The place was nice—minimalist, but it did the job. Most importantly, it was clean! In the bathroom area, I saw two sinks and three toilet stalls. I thought to myself that given the reputation of Thai street food, this was probably a very wise design choice. But as I looked around, something seemed missing. I turned to Johnny and asked the logical question: “Where’s the shower?” He realized he couldn’t see it either and quickly messaged the host. The reply was short: “In the bathroom.” And sure enough, behind every toilet door was a shower hose. To my great relief, there wasn’t a speck of mold in sight, so I could wash off days of travel grime without cringing.

While the apartment was cool, a claustrophobe would have struggled there. The two bedrooms had no actual windows—just a glass section of the wall that stayed covered by a roller blind anyway, since one “window” faced the stairs and the other the living room. The living room had two windows, but one was wallpapered over and the other, facing the street, stayed shut with the blind down so the neighbors couldn’t peek in. We were perfectly incognito and hermetically sealed.

We headed out for a late-night hunt for some Thai specialties on our street. Because it was late—or maybe because they were intimidated by foreigners—the street stalls kept telling us they were closed, even though I saw locals buying food right after. No biggie. We found a Chinese restaurant where every table had an electric hotplate. We sat down, and the staff brought us menus that we absolutely couldn’t read. There was a total language barrier, so Johnny tried with his hands, feet, and a translator to figure out how to order. Eventually, they brought us a pot with some broths and fresh ingredients and left us to it. We looked around helplessly, hoping someone would take pity on us, but no luck. Matyas took the lead and started throwing things from the tray into the broth. Then I took over. We dipped the cooked food into various sauces—some spicy, some not. The atmosphere was very quiet and peaceful, which our kids (especially Simeon) kept stubbornly disrupting. As soon as we were somewhat full, I took the little one back to the apartment while the rest stayed behind. I can’t say we were stuffed, so Leo bought some chicken and rice from a street stall on the way back. That dish became our “safe bet” for the next few days whenever we couldn’t find anything better.

Chilling with Lizards

The next day, I woke up late—well, probably closer to noon. It was hard to get up because, without windows, there was no natural morning light to wake us. The room was pitch black, and with the AC cranked, my senses were totally tricked into thinking it was still the middle of the night. However, the traffic noise in my room was so loud it felt like I was sleeping right on a main highway, which eventually jolted me awake. Johnny and I went on a mission to find breakfast for the sleeping kids. We grabbed some “safe” foods for them at 7-Eleven, and for myself, I bought some Tom Yum, chicken with rice, and sweet rice balls filled with corn from some old Thai grandmas. The soup and the chicken were seriously spicy. I loved it.

We wanted to keep the day low-key since we were exhausted from the Emirates and the travel. So, we let the kids sleep in as much as they wanted. We were in no rush and had no appointments to keep.

Our first planned stop was Lumphini Park. We headed to the bus stop, but as soon as we got there, the consequences of my spicy Thai breakfast kicked in. Luckily, we weren’t far. I didn’t have time to walk to the crosswalk like a civilized person; I had to bolt across the street right where we were.

Everything turned out fine. I made it. Once I reunited with the family, we waited for the bus. There was no schedule posted anywhere. we just relied on Google Maps, but as we soon learned, you can’t take those times too seriously with Bangkok buses. You just need patience. Something will eventually show up.

While we waited, my eyes drifted to some “garage” doors nearby. At first, I thought it was just a closed shop. I didn’t think much of it until I got bored and started reading the signs. My heart skipped a beat when I realized that, right there within walking distance, I could get a full “tune-up” at this garage clinic offering everything from hair transplants and breast augmentations to gender reassignment surgery.

The bus finally arrived, and it was perfect. The doors were gone, the window panes were missing—all to let the breeze flow through. The driver had a portable cooler next to him for his drinks. An elderly lady (70+) with a little coin box prioritized getting us seated and collected our change for tickets. She had legs of steel; even when the driver slammed on the brakes, she didn’t budge. She ran the show—directing passengers, the driver, and even the drivers of other buses who couldn’t even hear her. Nobody argued with her. It was amazing. Honestly, that’s my dream job for when I’m older. :) We were sitting right at the back by the “door,” so I was clutching Simeon tight, terrified he might roll out onto the road. Hanging right by our heads was a little gadget my kids spotted immediately. A rubber chicken. Actually, two—one big and one small. As we figured out, they were the signal for the driver to stop. Of course, my kids squeezed them the entire way. Luckily, the “boss lady” was lenient with them, and since she didn’t scold them, no one else dared to. From then on, Arthur could talk about nothing but “Chickie” (our family nickname for the rubber chicken).

We got off at Lumphini Park. Before heading in, we refreshed ourselves with some fresh coconut water and went searching for the monitor lizards Matyas had been dying to see.

Lumphini Park is your classic large park with a lake in the middle. There’s a playground that Simeon especially enjoyed. People go there to relax, run, or exercise—we even saw an organized aerobics class for ladies. And right alongside them were the monitor lizards. They were everywhere—climbing trees, swimming in the water, but mostly just lounging on the grass. While I watched Simeon on the playground, Matyas and Arthur went out on a swan-shaped paddle boat. It was really pleasant. We walked around, the kids ran off some steam, and it was a great experience.

As evening approached, we decided to walk around the neighborhood and try some street food. We bought some meat on a stick, but we hadn’t even made it three steps before the sky opened up. That was the end of our walk, and we shifted into “find the bus stop ASAP” mode.

By the time we got back to our neighborhood, the rain had stopped. Johnny suggested we get off a few stops early and walk down our street.

We strolled along at a leisurely pace, stopping at any stall that looked good for a little taste test. We actually managed to have a full meal this way. The last stop was a guy selling chilled fruit and young coconuts. We bought a baby pineapple and a coconut for everyone. Oh man, it was like heavenly manna. In that sweltering heat, it was the perfect refreshment. The cold, sweet pineapple that didn’t sting your tongue at all, the fresh coconut water, and then that soft, tender coconut meat… Yum!

Fish, Fish, and More Fish

The next day (Sunday), we planned a visit to the Taling Chan Floating Market. I’d spent the previous evening researching which one would suit us best. My criteria were: close to our place and not a tourist trap. The one I picked is only open on weekends, so we couldn’t put it off.

We had to get an earlier start to make sure we saw everything. We took our favorite bus to a nearby station, where I discovered another fantastic treat—a coconut milk ice slushie. Oh my gosh, it hit the spot in that heat.

Our next bus arrived—this one was newer and, consequently, more expensive. No old lady with a coin box here, just a young woman collecting fares. This bus had all its doors and windows, but it was so air-conditioned I would’ve happily put on a puffer jacket if I’d had one. We were literally freezing. Stepping off the bus afterward was like a punch in the face from the heat.

We found ourselves by some road with zero signage indicating a market was nearby. Johnny pulled out Google Maps and led the way. We headed down this sketchy-looking alley between houses. There was trash everywhere.

Bangkok doesn’t really do trash cans. It’s a real struggle to find one. Definitely don’t expect the cleanliness of the Emirates. Apparently, the invention of plastic was a game-changer in these parts, and not in a good way. Everything is wrapped in plastic bags and tied with rubber bands, which results in plastic being scattered everywhere.

The alley we walked through was… interesting. I felt almost like an intruder. It didn’t look like a place for tourists at all. There were tiny shacks where locals lived, and the poverty was palpable. Every now and then, a local would be hanging out and just stare at us like we were aliens. Some just laughed when they saw us. The path was lined with heaps of trash. I kept asking Johnny if he was sure we were going the right way. We passed something that looked like a bridge, but it was just wooden pilings with—most shockingly—train tracks on top. I cannot imagine a train actually running on something that flimsy.

The winding path eventually led us to the market. The stalls were by the river, but on land. Only the “restaurant” was actually on the water. For someone like me who gets seasick if a glass of water ripples, it wasn’t exactly the best setup. 😀

We bought some fruit and snacks and sat down in the restaurant section. We ordered the family-favorite meat on a stick, and Leo picked out a fish for himself. The lady serving us was so sweet and chatty. I wasn’t even planning on eating, but she talked me into it. 🙂 She even brought some bread for the kids. Arthur noticed there were giant fish in the water (one of which, from the murky canal, had been served fried to Leo) and started throwing bread to them just to watch them splash around and gulp it down. Soon, all the kids joined in, and we ended up buying a whole loaf just to keep them entertained for a few minutes.

They also offered motorized boat tours, so we hopped on one. It was really lovely. The breeze was blowing through our hair, and we got to see all kinds of houses, gardens, and temples. We saw monks in their orange robes, local fishermen lounging about, and families hanging out with their phones. Every now and then, someone would wave.

We stopped at another, smaller market where the kids were excited to see some live animals. We must have arrived right before closing, though, because it was pretty deserted and most things were sold out. We did a quick 20-minute loop. Arthur won some keychains at a shooting gallery, and then we headed back. Johnny was fascinated by the other boats—they had these massive engines ripped straight out of cars.

On the way back, we spotted several monitor lizards swimming, which the kids loved. I felt a bit of anxiety for the people living there, having these giant lizards just wandering through their backyards. I’ll admit, my knowledge of them is limited, and in my head, they’re all just smaller versions of Komodo dragons with venomous spit.

After the market, we had a long walk ahead of us to find a bus stop. After forever, we finally found one and even saw a bus with the right number, but it didn’t stop. So we waited for the next one. When it approached, we all waved frantically and shouted, but it was no use—it ignored us completely. We figured that particular stop just wasn’t being serviced, though of course, there was no sign saying so. A few hundred meters later, we found another stop. There were people waiting there, which was a good sign. A bus came, we hopped on without thinking, only to find out it wasn’t going where we needed. The staff took pity on us, didn’t charge us, and dropped us off one stop later where we could transfer.

After juggling a few more buses, we finally made it home. We got off early again to grab some chilled fruit and coconuts from our favorite stall.

Later that evening, Johnny and Leo went out for a “guys’ night” in the city. Johnny came back with a souvenir for Arthur: his very own rubber chicken.

Monday - A Day of Rest

For our last day (Monday), we didn’t have any big plans. We’d done the main sights on the first two days, so we decided to just play it by ear. Our feet were killing us, so we didn’t want to go anywhere too far or do anything too intense.

In the morning, Johnny, Simeon, and I hit a nearby laundry place because literally everything we owned was soaked in sweat. Simeon, of course, had to bring Arthur’s rubber chicken and “share” that irritating squeaking sound with everyone there.

I suggested heading to Chatuchak Park. Johnny looked it up and saw there was a butterfly garden nearby, so we set off. We’d only walked a few hundred meters when—yep, you guessed it—the Thai food consequences struck again. I had to sprint back to the apartment. And of course, in a moment of pure urgency, something had to go wrong. I couldn’t get the door open to save my life. I was almost in tears when I realized I’d been turning the knob the wrong way the whole time. Phew! Once everything was handled, I headed back to the waiting family.

Johnny wanted to make a quick detour to visit a legendary gym belonging to a famous Thai fighter. Arthur started whining that he was too hot and needed a drink, so we sat down in a cafe for some iced drinks. I decided to wait there with the kids while Johnny and Leo went on their gym quest. I have to say, sitting in that freezing AC, the iced drink didn’t even taste good. I was just cold and couldn’t wait for Johnny to get back.

I was shivering by the time they returned, so I declared it was time to go back to “baking” on the street. Their mission hadn’t been successful anyway—the gym was closed.

We walked past a large market near a business center. They had so much amazing-looking food. We tried fresh-squeezed sugar cane juice for the first time, and even Arthur—the world’s biggest sugar addict—remarked that it was “disgustingly sweet.” Johnny and I toughened up and bought some fried crickets and larvae. It wasn’t that they were gross to look at; they just didn’t taste good. So, our food experiments that day were a bit of a bust.

As we walked through that part of the city, we started seeing people sleeping on the ground. There is definitely poverty in Bangkok and plenty of homeless people, but I personally didn’t see anyone explicitly begging. Some people might ask for money when they see a white tourist, but I didn’t see anyone just sitting with a hat waiting for coins.

As we got closer to the park, the spicy food caught up with Johnny. He started getting massive stomach cramps and almost doubled over. There was nothing nearby but a public restroom, and he had to go for it, even though he wasn’t thrilled about the idea. Luckily, I’d come prepared with disposable toilet seat covers. So, crisis averted! 🙂

We walked through the park by the lake, but we had a major problem with the aggressively tuned garden sprinklers. They had a huge radius and spun fast, so you had to sprint to avoid getting soaked. Despite our best efforts, we didn’t escape dry. All the metal playground and workout equipment was completely rusted. It was a nice park, but it could definitely use some love and care.

The kids spotted several more monitor lizards, so we realized they are definitely not in short supply here. It seems they hang out near any body of water.

We crossed through the park and over the road into what felt more like a forest park—Queen Sirikit Park. There was a little stream, a bike path, and plenty of shade. Squirrels were running around; we threw them our fried larvae, and one of them happily scurried off with its new snack.

We walked through the greenery to the butterfly garden, which is a bit different here than in Europe. Since it’s already tropical, they don’t need a greenhouse—it’s just a giant mesh dome with tropical flowers inside where the butterflies fly in the open air. Johnny went ahead to buy tickets, but he came back disappointed. It was closed. He Googled it and found out that most cultural sites, museums, and even some gyms in Bangkok are closed on Mondays. We’d made a rookie mistake in our itinerary planning. If I’d known, we would’ve saved Lumphini Park for Monday—or just skipped it entirely, since you can find monitor lizards all over the city.

From there, we headed to a shopping mall just to see the difference between that and the street markets. It was a massive, multi-story building. The boutiques weren’t closed off with windows; it was more like a high-end, air-conditioned marketplace. Everything was open-concept. Leo loved it. I found it exhausting.

We were starving, but nothing in the mall appealed to us—neither the prices nor the service. We decided to head back outside to find some good street stalls. Of course, in that particular area, there was nothing. We walked for miles toward the metro and found zero decent options. That’s when we realized that not every part of Bangkok is as lively as where we were staying. Johnny had really lucked out with our neighborhood choice—Inthamara street area in Din Daeng. Anywhere else, we wouldn’t have had such an authentic experience.

I was beyond exhausted. My feet were hurting so bad—after six days of constant walking—that I can’t even describe it. I’d been carrying Simeon in the carrier the whole time, so on top of a packed backpack, I was lugging around an extra 25% of my body weight. We finally dragged ourselves back to the apartment. I didn’t even have the energy to go to our favorite fruit stall, but like a miracle, a different one with the exact same stuff appeared right by our entrance. Life saver.

I went up to the apartment with the two youngest to pack, get ready for our trip to Bali, and finally rest. The rest of the crew took off for one last wander around the neighborhood.

My Impressions:

I’ll be honest, I didn’t have any real expectations for Bangkok. It wasn’t exactly at the top of my list of kid-friendly destinations. But it really surprised me in the best way. I wouldn’t want to stay there with kids for more than five days—the three full days we had were just about perfect. I can definitely imagine how different it would be if I could’ve explored more freely and checked out the nightlife. Even though my experience was a bit restricted, I left feeling really happy with the trip. We truly made the most of our short stay. The buses were a total experience, but since I grew up riding those old vintage buses back home, I wasn’t too shocked by them. The traffic is definitely on the wilder side, but thankfully, I learned how to be assertive when crossing streets back in Baku, so I put those skills to good use here. I felt completely safe the whole time. The locals were so kind and helpful, and the street food was incredible—and so cheap! All the kids even agreed they’d love to come back someday with their friends. There’s never a dull moment in Bangkok; it’s such a vibrant, lively place.