suki restaurant,” he’d told me proudly when we’d first met the day before. As a keen cook, I now lapped up his expert knowledge, feeling excited about the night ahead. You see, I’ve always loved hosting dinner parties for close friends, but tonight’s soirée was bound to be one to remember. Even buying these ingredients in such a vast, yet condensed environment bursting with smells and atmosphere is something I will never forget. “Mark, do you have what you need from the market?” Pitaya asked. Checking my scrunched-up list I was confident I did, so gave him a nod. It was only 8.30am, but most of the shoppers had come and gone already. This is one of Bangkok biggest night markets starting at 10.30pm with vendors working through the night trimming, packing, preparing and selling fresh goods until mid-morning. Carefully stepping over flattened boxes and squashed flower petals, I spotted delivery vehicles revving to life, beginning their journeys to drop off purchased goods to shops, homes and restaurants across the city. Mopping my (now sodden) brow, we headed to the Mango Tree kitchen just 15 minutes away. “Are we getting a taxi?” I asked, praying for air conditioning. “No,” Pitaya replied, promptly. “You have a Metro system, here we have riverboats.” “And both cities have taxis,” I thought, but kept quiet. There might be air-conditioned cabins on the boats I surmised, and I couldn’t bear to quash Pitaya’s enthusiasm. “Riverboats are the best way to take in the city,” he added. The Chao Praya River Express operates a regular boat service used by tourists and locals alike. A kind of aquatic Metro, it stands as an elaborate network of canals known as khlongs, which gave Bangkok the nickname “Venice of the East.” Fares are cheap. You can get just about anywhere in the city for no more than 25 Baht.
The original Mango tree, named after after Pitaya’s neighbour’s mango tree
On our way to the Chao Phraya River I stopped to appreciate the beauty of Bangkok, as the morning sun shone over Phra Nakhon District. The historic centre of Bangkok, it stands within the precincts of the Grand Palace, which has served as the official Royal residence since the 18th century. Standing still for a few moments, I drank in how the city’s historical and modern features collide. Shiny towering buildings juxtapose Thailand’s ancient landmarks, together making some sort of chaotic sense. During this short, albeit hot, breather Pitaya tells me that unless they’re talking to foreigners, Thai people never call their capital city Bangkok. “Indeed, some Thais in the more remote provinces may never have heard of it being called that,” he says. “Instead in Thai it is known as Krung Thep, which roughly translates to City of Angels.” Bangkok, which means Village of Wild Plums (not so alluring) was the original site for the capital city and was west of the Chao Phraya River in the district of the former capital Thonburi. I’d planned to visit Bangkok in the past, but the day before my flight was scheduled to take off from London the devastating 2004 Tsunami hit. Years on, I couldn’t believe the chaos of the elevated roads that run up and under each other, weaving through densely populated areas so tightly you could almost knock on the front doors of some buildings from the car window, while darting between lorries laden with goods grunting alongside tiny scooters piled high with passengers. We pass people making pit stops at the many food
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