New Year in Bangkok

 Well, if I must celebrate the arrival of 2025, I might as well do it here.

Of course, Bangkok’s inconsistencies came out to play. I chose to go to a huge Buddhist gathering not far from my hotel. Well, that was the plan: first negotiate the roundabout. Enough said - I came to no harm. Then find the entrance by following the railings, which was fine except where trees and crowds meant walking in the road. (Plus the overflow from temporary loos - don’t even think about that!)

There was security to get in, which confused me at first as it looked as if they believed the faithful might be terrorists. But they were looking for plastic: there should be no plastic bottles or bags at a Buddhist gathering so these were unceremoniously thrown aside. Thankfully, I had neither.

And into the grounds of the Wat, where it all got a bit surreal. Thousands gather there to see in the New Year. The great and the good had chairs, covered in sacred white. The rest of us sat on plastic grass. 

It is, I knew, vital that one’s feet are always turned away from the Buddha, which means kneeling on ankles, sitting to one side, or managing cross-legged. So there was a lot of grumbling in the arthritic knee department before the night was done. After an initial formal ceremony, the chanting began, led by monks. And, while I understood nothing, there is something magnificent about thousands of people chanting in unison to see in the New Year. 

(The lettering above the monks is in Chinese, not Thai, as there were visiting bigwigs from China here.)

But I didn’t stay till the end. I wanted to watch the fireworks from the safety of my hotel balcony. And, given that my hotel is in Khao San Road, even reaching it was an expedition. Maybe the security check at the end of the road, and numbers of beefy policemen who loitering everywhere should have warned me. Shame they did nothing about crowd control. The street was overflowing with young people having a wonderful time, drinking, dancing, smoking cannabis (‘cannabis’ is sold freely, but there is no familiar weedy smell, so they could have been smoking anything). Music thumped from every bar and cafe, each determined to be louder than next door; music so loud it echoed in my chest. The street smelled of street food and beer and stale perfume. No plastic here either: glass splintered and crunched under a thousand feet. But I shoved, wheedled, inched my way through it all and made it to the hotel in time.

Khao San Road, the next morning. Some young people took pictures of the crush, but pushing my way through was enough for me.

Somehow Bangkok reconciles the strictures of its Buddhism with the excesses of Khao San Road. I know some of the young people making the most of the night were tourists, but not all. And the young Thai women working the night clubs are as much a part of Bangkok as its wats and temples.

It’s the contradictions of this city that I love, even though they make no sense. 

Though this bloke didn’t seem that bothered:

Happy New Year!!