COMMENTARY, March 17 — Ari, one of Bangkok’s liveliest neighbourhoods, is always bustling. Even if you wake up early in the morning, when there is barely any daylight to see by, you’d spot dozens of early birds scurrying hither and thither in the streets below.
There are the fitness fanatics, of course, the joggers and the random guy doing pull ups in the playground. The retirees and the home makers queuing up for the freshest batch of patongko (deep-fried crullers) and hot soy milk to bring home for breakfast.
The students gossiping over skewers of moo ping (grilled pork) and packets of glutinous rice. And the office workers, rushing to make the last carriage at the BTS Skytrain station, stopping only for that indispensable takeaway cup of kafae yen (iced coffee).
This last errand is possibly the most effortless of the lot. For there is a café on every street in Ari. More than one café per soi (Thai for street or alley), in fact.
You’d find one Café Amazon (a successful and ubiquitous Thai coffee shop chain) outlet around every corner. Filter coffee enthusiasts flock to Some Time Blue for National Thailand Brewers Cup 2016 champion Sutida Srirungthum’s stellar cuppas.
Then there is Nana Coffee Roasters along Soi Ari 4, with its renovated 50-year-old house and lush carpark stuffed with all manner of luxury vehicles. Not to mention the Kid Mai Death Awareness Café, where you may decide between the skeleton or the coffin for your seating arrangement.
In Ari, there is a café for everyone and every taste, macabre or otherwise. It’s easily Bangkok’s most caffeinated neighbourhood.
But sometimes all we desire is a little bit of peace and quiet. A space for ourselves away from the madding crowd.
Which is why I find myself here at the end of Ari’s busiest street, Soi Ari 1. Here, further from the main road (Soi Ari, also known as Soi Phahon Yothin 7 – one gets used to the city’s naming conventions eventually), lies a hidden café surrounded by lush greenery.
In fact, it is at the very end of the lane, which brings to mind the name of a Neil Gaiman novel, The Ocean at the End of the Lane. Instead of a vast body of water, however, I discover a place for espressos and cappuccinos, tables where dukkah-crusted poached eggs and grilled ahi tuna tacos are served.
I find a secret garden within Bangkok’s coffee sanctuary and a brunch café called Yellow Lane.
But this isn’t a story about coffee or brunch cafés, though it may look like one. We are in no hurry to get to our destination though, are we?
First, I need some coffee. Start the day with a long black and all will be fine, that’s my motto. (Or ought to be.) Walking into Yellow Lane, I’m struck by its warm and serene interior. There are a few customers here, deep in concentration. Digital nomads, perhaps.
The barista at the counter persuades me to order their signature vegan peanut butter banana cake. Or she thinks she has persuaded me; my better half, who is a peanut butter snob, had already sampled this and given it a fervent stamp of approval.
We should all pay more attention to our spouses and significant others; they understand us with more clarity than we possess, and marry their observations with tender, unconditional love.
The best partners, at any rate. (As I advised my niece recently – and perhaps, repeatedly – do not settle for anything less. And work hard to be as good a partner in return.)
I grab a seat and wait for my coffee and cake. Soon I am deep in concentration just like the other digital nomads in the café. I’m brought back to the present by the sound of a cup and saucer being gently placed on my table.
I look up to thank the server. And we stare at each other for a second or two, mentally erasing the face masks we are wearing. Yes, it’s Toon, my long-lost barista friend whom I had not seen since the pandemic started!
Let’s rewind a little.
Back before Covid-19 became an unfortunate staple of everyone’s daily vocabulary, I used to visit a coffee shop in Bangkok’s Ratchada district regularly. And with frequent visits, I soon knew the name of every barista working there.
I had my favourite, of course: a young chap named Toon (all Thais have nicknames; it’s an adorable part of their culture) who was studying business part time too. He was the friendliest, and the one most curious about what I did for a living, what Malaysia is like, and so on.
This is how conversations and friendships start, you see.
Toon knew my regular orders by heart: a noh lon (hot Americano) in the morning and a cappuccino in the afternoon. When feeling peckish, I’d have some pesto chicken pasta or Swedish meatballs with mashed potato; it was that sort of Scandinavian inspired café.
But nothing lasts — that’s the beautiful and terrible truth — and one trip back to Bangkok, I dropped by the café to find that it had closed down. We took things for granted, and neither Toon nor I thought of exchanging contacts. We assumed the shop would always be open, that he’d always have a job there, that I would always return to Bangkok.
The pandemic has taught us many things, and one of the biggest lessons is never to take anything – or anyone – for granted.
So colour me very surprised by Toon serving me coffee in an entirely different café two, three years since I last saw him. Entirely by coincidence, sure, but life is all about coincidences.
Toon and I continue to play catch up; we exchanged contacts this time, wiser now, so I can see the coffee events he’s attending over his Line news feed. I suspect he will be finding a way to merge his barista and business sides; it’s humbling and an honour to see people around you grow.
For lunch one day, I had Yellow Lane’s burrito bowl stuffed with pepper pulled pork, Mexican beans, pico de gallo, avocado, sour cream, jalapeños, corn chips and infused rice. This isn’t pesto chicken pasta or Swedish meatballs, but it is something new and it tastes fantastic.
Nothing lasts except for what does, such as a friendship. Sometimes you can go home again; it's just different but what matters remains the same. The beautiful and touching truth is we can open ourselves to the wonders and the magic of life happening.
That’s why we keep walking and wandering. Why we explore new paths, to see where they take us. Sometimes that tiny journey is one down to a secret garden at the end of a lane, a place for coffee and conversations... and reconnecting.
For more slice-of-life stories, visit lifeforbeginners.com.
