Bangkok, Setting Off Again for the Riverside Golden Buddha

My Second Solo Trip to Bangkok The first time I visited Bangkok, it was with a tour group. Landing at the airport, following the guide holding a sign, checking off tourist spots, taking group photos, sleeping on the bus, and snapping pictures when we got off—it felt like a lively yet chaotic dream. We visited the Grand Palace, Wat Phra Kaew, the Erawan Shrine, the floating market, and the Siam shopping district. Every place was packed with people, and every photo had blurry tourists in the background. Bangkok was hot, the air sticky, and the city was filled with golden temples and sizzling street food. My impression of the city back then was: delicious, noisy, and crowded. But what made me fall in love with Bangkok was my second solo trip. This time, there was no guide, no fixed itinerary—just me and a metro map. I stayed at a small guesthouse by the Chao Phraya River, waking up each morning to the sound of boats. Opening the window, I could see the river shimmering in the golden light. I remember clearly that day I set out specifically to see the legendary Golden Buddha (Wat Paknam Phasi Charoen). The Riverside Awe: A Silent Gaze at the Golden Buddha The sun was shining brightly that day. I took the BTS and then a boat, walking slowly and even getting a bit lost. I asked several locals for directions, and they were all eager to help. One even walked with me along a quiet riverside path. The further I went, the quieter it became, with fewer tourists. I began to hear the wind rustling through the trees and the distant sound of monks striking bells. Then, beyond a row of rooftops, the massive Golden Buddha suddenly came into view. It was towering, as if it had risen straight from the horizon. Its golden glow was dazzling but not at all garish. The Buddha sat serenely in the center of the temple, hands clasped in prayer, eyes lowered, gazing at the Chao Phraya River flowing gently by. In that moment, I found myself speechless. It wasn’t just the sheer height of the statue (though it stands an impressive 60-70 meters tall) that struck me, but the profound sense of tranquility it exuded. It needed no words, no incense smoke. Simply standing there, it calmed the soul. I stood by the river for a long time. There were no noisy tourists, no selfie sticks. It was just me and the Buddha, sharing a silent gaze. In that moment, I understood: Bangkok isn’t just about glittering gold, night markets, and massages. It also has a quieter, deeper side. Solo Travel: Falling in Love with a City During this trip, I avoided the popular “must-see” spots and instead wandered into small alleys, ate street food, and chatted with vendors. At an old market by the Chao Phraya River, I had an amazing bowl of braised pork leg rice. The smiling owner handed me a glass of iced water and said, “You’re not a local, but your smile feels like one of us.” One weekend night, I stumbled upon a small, free music festival. A group of young people sat on the ground, playing guitars and singing Thai folk songs. The wind blew gently, the lights swayed, and as I sat there, I felt a sudden urge to stay and never leave. Epilogue: Bangkok, Farewell to a Slower Me On the day of my return, I took a boat along the river toward the airport. As the boat passed the Golden Buddha, I couldn’t help but look up again. It was still there, solemn and unmoving, as if saying, “Welcome back anytime, and safe travels.” Bangkok, the first time, was bustling crowds and tour guides holding signs; The second time, it was the river, the silence, and a conversation with myself. The meaning of travel isn’t always about visiting more places, but about seeing the same place with a different version of yourself. Thank you, Bangkok. Next time, I want to come back alone again—to walk slowly, eat slowly, and see slowly. Perhaps I’ll exchange another quiet gaze with that Golden Buddha.