March 30, 2026

My last morning in Bangkok. It feels very surreal, having parachuted into this isolated corner of Taling Chan far west of the Chao Phraya river in Bangkok, and now suddenly being on the road again, the first leg of a journey through Southeast Asia that will take a total of 3 1/2 months. A goodbye to the cool air of the otherwise far-from-memorable bedroom, one last delicious breakfast courtesy of the host, packing, then traipsing in the direction I came from to catch a rideshare vehicle to the Mo Chit 2 bus station.

Alone determining which bus station I should travel to was perplexing, as there are a several bus stations sandwiched between Bang Sue Junction train station and Chatuchak park in the north end of the core area, and there is no way I would want to have to traipse around this urban morass without knowing in advance exactly where I should be heading to. I could take the metro to Kamphaeng Phet station and walk, but given the distance from the metro to the bus stations to the north and the potential confusion of navigating the distance, I will happily spend the money on the car. From what I could gather on the net, the station I need to head to is Mo Chit 2.

The bus station is modern enough, and given that agents at several different wickets point me in the same direction in the terminal, it seems that it does provide service to Korat. The terminal has an enormous arced shape, with abundant natural light and a reasonable degree of cooling, individual bus companies occupying the continuous banks of kiosks, the broad space in between largely dedicated to seating, much of the space occupied by locals who are largely bored but also slightly intrigued by the sight of a tall, gangly farang clad in heavy backpacks wandering by.

I only realize after the flurried exchange of bills that the brusque female ticket agent probably shortchanged me a considerable amount of money. I’ll simply have to be more attentive in future, although I am feeling somewhat tentative about the e-payment services that Thais tend to use. I am also surprised by the mediocre models and level of maintenance I see in many of the buses at the terminal, certainly the bus I am taking to one of the major urban centres near Bangkok.

I will see over the time traveling in the country that while the road system is easily one of the best in Southeast Asia, public transport isn’t necessarily the best. While there is a reasonable degree of service, buses tend to be run down and old, and even trains – from the limited experience I will make on this trip – are a far cry from the vaunted experience many travelers here rave about. But this is also understandable, inasmuch as the quality of public transport has diminished throughout Southeast Asia, given the widespread adoption of private two- and four-wheeled vehicles.

Baggage stowed in the hold, I take my assigned seat, and at the appointed time, the bus pulls out of the berth, enters the mess of Bangkok traffic, eventually making its way to the freeway, and we are off on the long journey through the sprawl that extends to the northeast of the city, then the seemingly endless factories, warehouses, car lots, heavy machinery depots, and so, until we reach a far more rural setting, the flat, drab landscape giving way to the hilly outliers of the enormous Khao Yai National Park to the east. My destination, the city of Nakhon Ratchasima, lies to the north of the park, but still at a considerable distance to the northeast. But the variegated landscape offers a welcome dose of green from the otherwise relentlessly overdeveloped and commercialized outliers of Thailand’s giant metropolis.

The bus drops me off at an intersection that seems to be central in the town, much more so than the bus station – a challenge of travelling in Thailand by bus is the abstruse locations of bus terminals. The hotel I am intended to stay in was a good deal in terms of price and apparent quality, but not paying enough attention when viewing the place on the map will place me at the far southern periphery of one of the larger cities in eastern Thailand. The SHIN Hotel 80th Stadium hotel seems to be in a coherent residential area, but what I will soon find out is that it is located in more of a rural setting. And what the remote location entails is not being able to walk anywhere as well as spending far more on taxis, which nullifies any potential saving that the price of the hotel offers.

From the main highway, we navigate through a maze of side roads, each block more rural than the last, although from the perspective of locals, they probably have the best of both worlds, quiet and comfortable homes on sprawling properties with abundant greenery, and at the same time a short jaunt into the centre of a major city in the Isan. The driver is hesitant to drop me off at the hotel – while we are at the correct location on the map, the building the roadway leads to isn’t signed in any way, other than some sports-related facilities, including an archery club at the far end. The lone individual loitering next to the building confirms that I am in fact standing at the entrance to the hotel, but there is no reception, simply a keypad to provide you access to the building and your room.

I can’t believe this – here I am, in the middle of nowhere on the edges of this sprawling city, at a hotel that functions with contactless, remotely-operated service, and I don’t speak a word of Thai. I dig up the contact information I received for the establishment on Agoda, then begin a protracted back-and-forth to get me the necessarily information to allow me to check in and access my room. Hopefully this doesn’t presage further experiences with hotels in the country (happily it won’t!) …

Inside, things take another strange turn, the room designed with a combination of Japanese and tiki aesthetics, the bed a mattress on a slightly raised podium, assorted images and copious use of bamboo underlying the theme. The Agoda profile photos are a far cry from the actuality of the room, in particular, the muntin-lined windows are in fact light boxes, and there are no windows facing the outside. This is not an uncommon feature in Southeast Asia, given the cost of cooling places in the intense heat, although from what I recall, less so in Thailand. There is a small, low table, with adjoining floor mats, a T.V., and small bathroom, with a laminate floor, the ensemble at the best utilitarian, and not very conducive to any sense of comfort. The most important things I need are proper lighting, functional AC and wifi, a comfortable mattress, and a proper writing desk; all these creature comforts are more or less in place, and all I need to do to complete the picture is haul a small desk into the room from outside …

Now that I have checked in, deposited my things, done some minimal organization of my space, I can return to town, and that using my preferred mode of transport, the inexpensive and effective motorcycle taxi. But then the challenge arises of finding anyone desperate enough to pick up a passenger this far out of town for such a meager fare, never mind getting lost, then claiming to be at the pickup location when they are in fact at the nearest crossroad, which is not entirely obvious to me, especially given that I don’t speak Thai. So more delay, although the jovial owner of the adjoining archery club is quick to come to my assistance. And then I am off, whizzing through the leafy wilds of suburban Korat, past the atmospheric Buddhist temple and its resident pack of feral dogs (I make a mental note not to come here on foot) …

The most obvious attraction in town seem to be the Thao Suranari monument located along the canal that encircles the town, adjacent an art gallery and museum (at least according to the map), although it will later turn out that the plaza and canal area abutting the west side of the core area represents the apogee of any kind of aesthetically appealing juncture point in Korat, the generally drab nature of Thai towns certainly typical for urban centres in the Isan, although this early in my journey, I am still optimistic about what awaits me and motivated to explore as much as I can.

My immediate destination is the monument, but I actually never get to visit the site as I am swept into the sea of market stalls be erected along the spacious plaza. As it becomes busier with stalls and visitors, it also becomes increasingly difficult to navigate through the throng and leaves me reverting to walking in the middle of the adjoining side streets to be able to make any kind of headway from one end to the other. Perhaps further into my trip into the Isan I would feel otherwise, but the variety of food stalls, the crowds, the excitement, and in fact the palpable joyousness I experience wading through the market are a fantastic introduction to the Isan region of northeastern Thailand. The visit to this market today will probably be one of the highlights of my current trip, to some extent because the subsequent many visits to markets will be effectively more of the same.

It turns out that the market and related festivities are taking place for the Thao Suranari Victory Day Celebration that take place over a 12 day period in Korat. Thao Suranari (1771–1852) was a Thai heroine and the wife of the deputy governor of Nakhon Ratchasima (Korat). She is revered as a national savior for rallying local villagers to defeat the invading Laotian forces in 1826. In 1826, King Anouvong of Vientiane marched an army toward Bangkok and seized Korat.

Lady Mo used cunning tactics, reportedly plying the occupying enemy soldiers with alcohol and food before organizing a successful nighttime counter-attack and prisoner revolt. King Rama III honored her bravery by bestowing upon her the noble title of Thao Suranari. A bronze monument of Thao Suranari was erected in the town centre that contains her ashes. She is considered the spiritual guardian and patron saint of Korat, and locals visit her statue daily to pray for luck, success, and protection. (Google search)

Possibly because the market is being held specifically to commemorate the heroine of Korat, many people may be coming from rural areas that would be less likely to come to town to attend a regular market gathering. The crowds I wander through seem particularly welcoming, many adults looking at me with a genuine sense of warmth, and the children often with a sense of curiosity if not astonishment. Given the sense of vibrant sentiment the market evokes, I can only conclude – certainly based on later experiences – that many of the attendees don’t regularly encounter farang and are moreover relatively remove from the Pattaya experience which exposes Thai to the wholesale commodification of their young women for the benefit of geriatric Caucasian men.

Having not been in Thailand for some years, much of the street food is foreign to me, and there certainly are a lot of gems to be found here. But the variety of foods and their makeup becomes overwhelming to survey, effectively resulting in an information overload. While locals are far from aggressive, it just doesn’t seem appropriate to position myself in front of stands and gawk.

I may be welcomed by the vendors, but I would only make the visit for passers-by so much more difficult. Many stands feature grilled meat substitute concoctions of some sort, but beyond surimi and soy derivatives, it really isn’t very clear at to what is being offered – or what the taste profile would be, if any. Other stands offer skewered meat cuts involving differing body parts of pork or chicken, although there thankfully doesn’t seem to be much offered in the line of the weird and wonderful that I remember from prior excursions into the Thai hinterland.

Transparent baggies of prepared dishes, containing different ingredients stacked on top of each other, presumably ready to eat – or be served with rice? Grilled skewers of squid, octopus, and other seafoods, the relative costliness of the constituent foodstuffs dictating the wildly variant prices. Bamboo stuffed with sticky rice, carefully laid-out assortments of sushi, pork sausages of varying flavouring, individually-sized or in ribbons, in a wide array of sizes; drinks, commercially bottled, locally made and professionally bottled, or freshly made, including sugary drinks or pure juices; kiosks making coffee, always surprising in this hot, sweaty climate; a dizzying selection of trays of ready made foods; delectable Vietnamese spring rolls wrapped in delicate rice paper; crispy Thai-style crepes with assorted sweet and savoury dressings; dumplings stuffed with different meat preparations, and so on.

I am always on the lookout for fresh fruit, although such markets are not really the place for fresh produce. You can get assorted cut fruit, but you’ll be paying a premium, and much of the fruit is relatively pricey as it is. Some of the limited fruit I encounter is as yet unfamiliar, although I will definitely be running into more of the same in my extensive travel in the region. Then durian is always mandatory, although the prices of the fruit are hair-raising; I often wonder about the economics of this fruit, considering its plenitude on markets, the stratospheric prices – and the evident limited interest that consumers have in the fruit, at least in paying the high prices being asked.

There are the trays of sweets, chocolates, pieces of cakes, pastries, shredded grilled coconut preparations, and mildly sweet gelatinous concoctions, the variety of which goes far beyond anything I would expect – and a food group I need to avoid for health reasons at this point in my life. And then there are the insects, all manner of grubs and worms that are popular through the Isan region. But I just can’t compel myself to eat them … I have my limits!

I wonder how the locals can afford some of the more expensive fish and crustacean options, although it doesn’t take much effort to see that most people just come here to look and possibly buy some of the most inexpensive items available. The hardship of poverty is particularly apparent for many of the families, where the parents must obviously struggle to afford even the simplest treats for their children. On the other hand, for the wealthier urban populace, the business owners, the locals who have lived abroad, the government workers, there are few limits to their indulgences.

One of the banes of such markets can be the lack of seating, but here happily there is ample seating, although very much in demand by the copious amounts of people in attendance. And the Thai are always a pleasure to be around as they are so warm and respectful, certainly the countryfolk present here. Even better, stages have been set up on the long plaza offering traditional performances as well as impromptu performers playing and singing along the lengthy concourse. The experience of taking in the street performers alone is quite fantastic, given how good they are and the vibrant social environment in which they perform. The appeal of the setting is underlined by the relatively ornate architecture that flanks the canal, ostensibly the showcase for the inner city (as I will later see) as well as the welcome landscaping, including lengthy raised beds of flowering oleander, something that Thai cities are not particularly noted for.