Morning Routine
October 6, greetings from Bangkok. The day began quietly, just like the past few mornings. I stepped out of Long Luck Guesthouse and walked only thirty seconds to the same breakfast stall I had been visiting daily.
For 45 baht (about 199 yen), I had a simple meal that never failed to satisfy. The taste was addictive in the best way—comforting, flavorful, and filling enough to start the day. Yet, as always, it wasn’t quite enough, so I made my way toward the familiar grilled chicken stall.
At just 10 baht (44 yen) per skewer, I find myself buying at least four every day. The price feels unbelievably cheap, and the taste keeps me coming back.
Work and a Sweet Encounter
Today I had one plan in the evening, so I decided to focus on work first. I settled into a nearby café, ordering my usual iced Americano for 80 baht (about 355 yen).
As I worked, I struck up a conversation with the man sitting next to me. He smiled, then asked, “Do you like chocolate?” Before I knew it, he handed me some to try.
He explained, “When you find something truly good, you want to share it. That’s how joy grows.” His words stayed with me. I thought to myself—I should also keep something small with me, something I can give away in moments like this. These simple acts of sharing connect strangers in unexpected ways.
Evening at Chinatown
By late afternoon, I set off toward Chinatown. I had been invited to a festival held there, part of the Chinese National Day celebrations starting on October 1. It struck me that similar festivals were probably happening in Chinatowns around the world at that very moment. The thought made me realize again the incredible global influence of Chinese culture.
The sky, however, looked heavy with rain. Even the driver warned me it would surely pour. I hurried my steps, hoping to take in as much as possible before the storm.
Everywhere I looked, yellow flags fluttered in the streets. This marked the “Kin Jay” festival—a vegetarian period when shops and stalls turn yellow to symbolize purity. Yet among all the yellow, the striking red buildings stood tall and bold, carrying the unmistakable strength of Chinese tradition.
Though the festival promoted vegetarian food, many stalls also sold desserts and sweets. The atmosphere was lively, filled with colors, scents, and the sound of people moving through narrow streets.
A Hidden Bar and Tarot Cards
After exploring Chinatown, I was invited to a so-called “secret bar.” It wasn’t shady, just one of those hidden places without a clear entrance, known only by word of mouth.
Still, I was cautious. I had once been caught in a scam bar before, and since then, the very word “bar” made me wary. After confirming it was safe, I stepped inside. The atmosphere was cozy, and I asked the bartender for a recommendation.
To my surprise, the drink arrived in a cup that looked exactly like a home glass—simple but oddly comforting. Then, unexpectedly, a tarot card reading began.
The card I drew was DEATH. My heart sank at first. A terrible omen, I thought—especially at the beginning of a new journey. But the reader explained it meant a turning point, an ending that makes space for a new beginning.
It resonated deeply. My journey was indeed shifting: my trailer was gone, and soon it would no longer be a solo trip but a journey with two. It truly was a moment of change.
I don’t usually put much faith in fortune-telling, but that night I felt the tarot wasn’t about prediction, but about reflection. And in that way, it was meaningful.
Closing the Day
The rain eased, and I stepped back into the lively streets, saying goodbye to the person who had shown me around. I felt grateful again for the kindness of people I met along the way. Encounters like these are reminders: to move forward with gratitude, to value each person who crosses my path.
Back at the guesthouse, travelers from different countries were gathered outside, chatting together. I joined in. These conversations are always fascinating—cultures and ideas colliding in one space, revealing differences and similarities alike.
Later, after farewells, I went to a famous grilled chicken stall that only opened after midnight. The skewers were incredible—juicy, flavorful, and unbelievably priced at just 10 baht. The only downside was eating so close to bedtime, but the taste was worth it.
