Chinatown

A walk in Bangkok’s Chinatown evoked memories of my Chinese immigrant grandparents. They lived in a tall, skinny shophouse off Yaowarat, the area’s main thoroughfare. The first and second floors housed the administration side of my grandfather’s business and the top floor was where they lived.

Also, hidden from the street level, a wonderfully lush garden bloomed on the roof terrace of this vintage structure, thanks to my industrious grandmother’s very green thumb.

Since both grandparents passed away in the 1990s, I have seldom set foot in this part of town, but we went back for a visit yesterday evening. Not much has changed. Well, there is a Tesco Lotus on a side road and a pizza delivery place but in essence, it feels the same.

As always, trade bustles in the gold shops and on the street, especially as the lunar New Year approaches. The narrow back lanes of Sampheng are just as dark and cluttered as before. And the familiar smells of roasted chestnuts, wonton noodle soup, and dried scallops periodically hit us as we meandered down the street, avoiding puddles of waste water and fresh garbage that had been tossed on the sidewalk.