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The rain had finally stopped, leaving the air thick enough to chew. I was on my way to check out the Song Wat district, that old riverside warehouse area I'd heard was having some kind of film and vinyl market. The taxi crawled along Phetchaburi Road, and I saw why: the Pratunam flyover is closed around the clock until next February while they dig the MRT Orange Line tunnels underneath. The detour signs were everywhere, and even the tuk-tuk drivers looked frustrated.

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So I told the driver to pull over. There's no point fighting Bangkok traffic when the BTS is right there. A single journey on the Skytrain runs you anywhere from about 17 to 45 baht, depending on distance – that's roughly fifty cents to a dollar thirty. I tapped my Rabbit Card, which I'd loaded up the day before, and let the train do the work.

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I got off at Saphan Taksin and walked towards the Chao Phraya. The river was high and brown from all the rain, but the breeze off the water helped. Song Wat is just a few streets back from the pier, and the old shophouses there have this wonderful peeling-paint charm. The market, when I found it, was a proper jumble: stalls selling craft paper, old vinyl records, and cameras that looked like they'd been through a war. A DJ was set up in an alley, but the music was low enough that you could still hear the river traffic.

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I stopped for a coffee at a tiny place called Piccolo vicolo – I think they're known for their espresso. A cappuccino will set you back about 75 baht, which is a bit of a splurge for Bangkok, but the beans were good and the air conditioning was a gift from the gods. I sat by the window and watched the street fill up with people, the afternoon sun trying to burn through the clouds.

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The whole area around Song Wat feels like a different century. You can see the old godowns, the ones that used to store rice and tea before they got converted into galleries and cafes. It's a gentrification story that's still in its early chapters. I'm told there's also a craft beer place nearby called The Island Bangkok, but I was more interested in the pier.

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From Song Wat, it's a short walk to the Tha Ratchawong pier. For about 15 baht, you can hop on a Chao Phraya Express Boat. The river is the city's real spine, the way the BTS is its nervous system. I took the boat north, past the gleaming spires of ICONSIAM, that mega-mall on the other side, and under the rusty girders of the Memorial Bridge. It's a different city from the river, all concrete and history and laundry hanging out to dry.

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My plan was to see Wat Arun from the water, but the sky turned a bruised purple and the boat crew started handing out umbrellas. The monsoon doesn't wait for anyone. I got off at Tha Tien, right near Wat Pho. The first drops were the size of coins, and by the time I'd found shelter under a shop awning, it was a proper curtain of rain. I bought a bag of ripe mangosteen from a vendor who'd taken cover next to me – seasonal, sweet, and about 40 baht a kilo.

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The rain lasted a solid hour, the kind that makes the gutters roar and turns the temple courtyards into shallow lakes. When it finally eased off, the air was cooler, and the wet stones of the old town smelled like a garden. I walked past Wat Pho, home of the reclining Buddha, all 46 metres of him. I didn't go in – I'm saving that for a proper visit – but I made a note that the massage school there is the real deal, the mother of all Thai massage.

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I crossed over to the Grand Palace, or rather, I tried to. A man on the street told me it was closed for a ceremony, which I've since learned is a classic scam line. I'm not sure if it was true or not, but I wasn't in the mood to gamble on a ticket price. I just walked the whitewashed walls, which are impressive enough on their own. The whole of Rattanakosin Island, where the old city sits, is a fortress of temples and official buildings.

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By early evening, I was back on the river, taking a slow boat back south. The rain had washed the sky clean, and the sunset lit up the west bank like a painting. I got off at Saphan Taksin and wandered into the Sathorn area, all embassy compounds and sky-high condos. I was hungry, and I remembered a recommendation for a place called RONGROS, which is supposed to have excellent traditional Thai food. It's not cheap – you might spend upwards of 500 baht a head – but the riverside terrace looked perfect.

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I didn't end up eating there. The queue was out the door, and I wasn't in the mood to wait. Instead, I found a small street stall a few streets back and ordered som tam – green papaya salad – and a plate of khao man gai, that Hainanese chicken rice, all for about 150 baht total. The som tam had just enough chilli to clear my sinuses. That's the thing about Bangkok: you can eat like royalty for under 200 baht, or you can spend ten times that in a food court. Both are part of the city's charm.

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I took the BTS back to Ari, my temporary neighbourhood. My little one-bedroom condo, a modest place near the station, costs me about 15,000 baht a month, which is on the low end for Bangkok. Housing here has crept upwards, but it's still possible to find something decent if you're willing to look. The BTS fare from Sathorn to Ari was about 35 baht, and the station was buzzing with people heading home from work.

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I stopped at the 7-Eleven for some water and a bag of chips, and the cashier smiled at me – the universal Thai greeting, sawasdee, even at 9 pm. Back at the flat, I stood on the small balcony and watched the city lights twinkle through the humid air. The rain had brought out the cicadas, or maybe it was the frogs, a loud, rhythmic chorus that's become the soundtrack of this first week.

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Tomorrow, I'm going to try to open a bank account, which I'm told is a lot easier now that I have a visa sorted. It's all part of getting settled, which is the main job this week. But before I dive into the paperwork, I wanted to see one more thing: the city's green heart, Bang Krachao. It's this low-lying island in the Chao Phraya, across from the port, that the locals call the green lung.

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You get there by ferry from Klong Toey, which is about 20 baht. Twenty minutes and you're in a different world – jungle paths, canals, and hardly any traffic. I rented a bicycle for the day and followed the narrow lanes past banana groves and stilt houses. It was so quiet that I could hear my own breathing. The air smelled of wet leaves and flowers. There are these elevated walkways that snake through the forest, and I stopped more than once just to listen to the birds.

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As the afternoon wore on, I found myself in a little open-air cafe on the edge of the jungle, drinking a fresh coconut and watching a group of children fish in a canal. A monitor lizard – a big one, maybe two metres long – slipped into the water and disappeared. The city felt a thousand miles away, even though it was just across the river. It's a reminder that Bangkok is more than just concrete and commerce; it's a place with layers, and you have to peel them back.

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I caught the ferry back as the sun was setting, the sky a wash of orange and pink. The ferry horn sounded, a low, mournful note, and I felt a sudden affection for this chaotic, gorgeous, impossible city. It's only my second full day here, but I'm already starting to understand why people fall in love with it. The monsoon is a feature, not a bug – it makes everything green and loud and alive.

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I'm spending the next few days on the ground: banking, a bit of admin, maybe a wander through the Jim Thompson House, which I'm told is worth the visit. And I'm going to keep walking the old town, peeling back those layers. After that, the plan starts to shift north, towards the old capitals and the railway that leads to the mountains. But for now, this is home. Thanks for listening, and wherever you are, I hope your rain brings good things too.

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That's it for this episode of the Thailand Travel Podcast. I'm Ploy, and this is Bangkok, day two. The city is still loud, the rain is still coming, and I'm still grinning. Sawasdee for now.