When I left Hoi An at 7 AM, the rain had already started to fall.

I was picked up by a shared shuttle bus I’d pre-booked via Klook. As we made our way toward Da Nang City, I felt a quiet sadness creeping in.

My time in Hoi An was short but deeply meaningful. That peaceful little town had offered me something I didn’t know I needed: a reminder to slow down. Coming from a hectic corporate life, I’d forgotten what it meant to just breathe, to sit still, to let life unfold.

Hoi An taught me to appreciate the small things—the warm smiles of locals, the serenity of strolling through lantern-lit streets, the comfort of a hot bowl of noodle soup, and the unexpected beauty of a storm that forced me to stop and just be. At first, I was disappointed by the weather. But eventually, I realized the storm was the lesson: slow down—not everything in life needs to move fast.

That line is me—a beautiful reminder from the road, written straight from my own rhythm.

We arrived safely at Da Nang Airport. After grabbing a cup of coffee and a banh mi from Highlands Coffee, I got my boarding pass, cleared immigration, ate Vietnamese noodles once again, and waited for my flight to Bangkok.

Everything went smoothly, and Thai Air Asia left a good impression with an on-time departure and a smooth flight.

Just an hour later, I was in Don Mueang International Airport—and from the familiar Vietnamese accents, the transition into the rhythmic, melodic sound of Thai was a clear sign that I had arrived.

Bangkok—chaotic, charming, and sizzling as ever—welcomed me back like an old friend. The signature heat and traffic hit me right away, but somehow it felt comforting, like the city was saying, “Welcome back to the beautiful mess.”

To reach my hostel in Ratchathewi, I took the SRT Red Line—out of pure curiosity, of course. It was part of the plan. As a train enthusiast, I couldn’t resist. The SRT Red Line was clean, air-conditioned, and modern—a smooth transition from airport to city chaos. But the journey didn’t end there. From the SRT Red Line to the MRT Pink Line, and finally to the BTS Sukhumvit Line… whew! Let me say it twice: it was tiring. But I made it.

After checking in, I ventured out for food. I wasn’t familiar with the neighborhood yet, and I wasn’t in the mood for 7-Eleven food (I’m picky like that 😅). I wasn’t even using Google Maps. I just walked—hoping to find something to eat, even if it ended up at McDonald’s. And somehow, like fate leading me, I ended up at Platinum Mall.

Suddenly, a wave of nostalgia hit me.

The food stalls outside Platinum Mall—the ones grilling meat, frying noodles, serving refreshments, and serving mango sticky rice—brought me back to my very first time in Bangkok. I remembered being there with my friends, shopping for cheap clothes, laughing through the heat, eating barbecue and mango sticky rice outside McDonald’s, sweat dripping but hearts full. We didn’t mind the sizzling weather or the sizzling grills. We just laughed, ate, and enjoyed being together. That memory lives rent-free in my heart.

“Like an old friend” captures exactly the way I return to places that once held a version of me—maybe sweaty and lost, maybe laughing with friends, maybe alone but full of hope. That’s how Bangkok feels in my story: messy, real, unfiltered, and familiar in the best kind of way—a little chaotic, a little comforting, and always waiting for me, no matter how long I’ve been gone.

It’s more than just revisiting a place—it’s reconnecting with a part of yourself that you left behind there.

And now, here I was again—just me this time—ordering the same mango sticky rice. Somehow, it felt like the perfect Bangkok welcome. Warm glutinous rice, thick coconut milk, and sweet golden mangoes… It tasted just like I remembered, maybe even better.

After a long day of rain, flights, and three train transfers, this little treat reminded me why I travel—not just for new places, but to return to old ones that still feel like home. I’ve been moving through countries, train lines, and life itself with such courage and curiosity. And yet, even amidst the whirlwind, I’ve learned to pause. To feel. To breathe.

That line is more than just a sentence—it’s a truth that found me in the rain-soaked streets of Hoi An. On the other hand, Bangkok didn’t ease me in—it threw me straight into the chaos, and I loved every second of it. As a train enthusiast, I knew I had to try the SRT Red Line. Curious? Absolutely. Prepared? Barely. But I made it—and that’s what matters.

*** This blog is a part of my Vietnam-Thailand solo travel series. I traveled to these countries on June 12-16, 2025. ***