The rain hit the window of the taxi like someone had upended a bucket. I'd been in Bangkok for maybe twenty minutes, and already the city was showing off. Thunder rolled over Suvarnabhumi, and the driver just shrugged and said something I later learned was a very Thai response to weather: it is what it is, you wait it out, you get a bowl of noodles. That was my arrival. 2026, August first, the heart of the monsoon.
I flew in on a one-way ticket, which always makes immigration officers raise an eyebrow. But with a 60-day visa exemption and plans to extend, I had the paperwork sorted. The Thailand Digital Arrival Card, the TDAC, is mandatory now, filled out within 72 hours before flying. I did mine at the gate, slightly sweaty, and the QR code on my phone got me through in minutes. The line for people who hadn't done it curled around the hall. Pro tip: do the TDAC.
First mission: a SIM card. The arrivals hall at Suvarnabhumi is a wall of booths, AIS, TrueMove, dtac, all with their bright signs and data plans. I went with AIS, got a tourist eSIM, thirty days of solid data. You need your passport, and they scan it, that's the law. So I walked out of the airport with a Thai number, a working phone, and about 400 baht lighter, roughly eleven dollars. Felt like a small victory.
The taxi into the city was a baptism. We took the expressway, and the sprawl of Bangkok unfolded in that grey-green light. The city is in its absolute greenest now, the monsoon has turned everything lush, the trees along the highway are heavy and dark. Buildings rise out of the wet air, and the traffic moves in that chaotic, strangely rhythmical way it does here. It's loud, it's humid, it smells of rain and exhaust and something sweet, maybe jasmine, maybe just the city's own particular perfume.
My apartment for the first week is a modest one-bedroom near the Ari BTS station, up in that leafy, artsy neighbourhood north of the main tourist drag. I found it online, a serviced apartment, and it's costing me around 15,000 baht for the month, which is about 425 dollars. That feels reasonable for a place with a kitchenette, a balcony, and a view of the canal. Ari is the kind of neighbourhood where you get local coffee shops and quiet lanes, more Thai than expat, and I wanted that for a base.
The first thing I did after dumping my bags was walk. I walked the soi, the little lanes off the main road, past a temple with a golden chedi, past shophouses selling grilled pork skewers and cold drinks. The heat hit me hard, 33 degrees, feels like 39, and the humidity is a physical thing. I ducked into a small café, one of those hole-in-the-wall places with a fan and a good espresso machine. I had a cappuccino, about 75 baht, and sat and watched the rain start again.
Afternoon in the monsoon means a thunderstorm. It came in fast, the sky darkened at four, and then the rain just bucketed down. I was at a street stall, having my first proper pad thai, 60 baht, and the vendor just pulled a plastic sheet over the counter, and we all kept eating. Nobody rushed. That's a lesson in how this city works. The rain stops as quickly as it starts, and the streets steam, and you go on with your day.
My second day, I got practical. I needed to open a bank account, and that meant immigration paperwork. The rules changed a few years back, and now you basically need a long-stay visa to get a proper account. I have a Non-Immigrant O visa, which helps. So I took the BTS to Mo Chit, then the MRT to Chaeng Wattana, the big government complex. It took most of a day, but I got my Certificate of Residence, and then I went straight to a Bangkok Bank branch and opened an account. The Bualuang app, linked to my Thai number, and I was in business.
The BTS Skytrain is my lifeline here. Single fares run about 17 to 45 baht depending on distance, so under a buck fifty for a short hop. They've moved to a distance-based system, and there's a 900 baht monthly package that gave me 25 trips, and that's the smart way to go if you're staying put. I also got a Rabbit Card, the stored-value card that works on the BTS and the Yellow and Pink lines. It costs 200 baht to get started, with 100 baht of value on it. The MRT is different, you just tap any contactless card. Good to know.
In the evening, I walked down to the Chao Phraya River. The city changes utterly by the water. The air opens up, and you see all these klongs, the canals, branching off into the heart of old Bangkok. I took a chop, a little passenger boat, from the Central Pier, and we chugged past hotels and temples and stilt houses, all the life of the river. There's a reason people say Bangkok was built for the water. It's a different world, and it's been here since before the city was even the capital.
The next morning, I did my first orientation walk, a teaser of what's to come. I started at the Grand Palace, and for a moment I just stood in the heat, looking at those roofs, the gold and the porcelain, and I thought about how this has been the ceremonial heart of Siam since 1782. I didn't go in, I'm saving that for a later episode, but I walked the perimeter, and I got my bearings. Right next to it, Wat Pho, home of the reclining Buddha, and across the river, Wat Arun, the Temple of Dawn.
I ended up on Soi Tani, near the Tanao Road, and found a little café called Hide Cafe Bar Tani Road. It's this tiny, tucked-away place, and I had an iced coffee and watched the world go by. Around the corner is Khao San Road, so it's a good spot to duck out of the chaos. I'm told the Grand Palace area is a scam magnet, guys telling you it's closed on some Thai holiday and they'll take you on a tuk-tuk tour instead. They lie. Just ignore them, walk on, ask a monk or a police officer.
Food, of course. My first proper som tam came from a market stall, green papaya salad, pounded to order with tomatoes, green beans, peanuts, and a serious amount of chilli. 50 baht. You can get it mild, but where's the fun in that. I also had boat noodles, kuay teow ruea, those little bowls of pork and broth and dark herbs, 70 baht for a small one, and you're supposed to eat three or four and count the stacks of empty bowls on the table. It's a game.
The monsoon shapes everything. It's the season when Bangkok is least crowded, the sky is dramatic, and the city feels alive in a different way. The rains have already flooded a few low-lying streets, just ankle-deep for an hour, and the locals just wade through. I've learned to keep a pair of sandals in my daypack. And the produce is at its best, late-season mangosteen and rambutan showing up at market stalls between showers. Sweet, cold, perfect.
I'm here for two years, not a holiday. The plan is to head north eventually, following the old railway up through the ancient capitals, into the mountains. But for now, Bangkok is home. I have a sim card, a bank account, a neighbourhood that's becoming mine, and a growing list of favourite stalls. I'm told there's a film market in the old Song Wat district coming up, and I might check that out. Sanuk, as they say, the idea that life should be fun, and that you make your own fun here.
Tonight, I think I'll take the BTS to Phrom Phong and walk through Benchasiri Park, watch the sunset over the skyline. Or maybe I'll hop on a ferry to Bang Krachao, the green lung, the jungle island in the middle of the river. It's a twenty-minute boat ride and it feels like a different country. That's the thing about Bangkok, it keeps giving you these surprises. I'm starting to get my bearings, and the city is starting to feel like mine. Sawasdee hi, Bangkok.
I'm Ploy, and this is the first step of a long road. I'll be back next week with more from this city, the klongs, the market stalls, and the quiet lanes of Ari. For now, the rain has stopped, the pavement is steaming, and there's a bowl of something good waiting for me around the corner. That's the sound of the journey beginning.
This is the Thailand Travel Podcast, and I'll be here, in Bangkok, getting ready for the road ahead. See you next time.