The Rise and Fall of Khaosan Road

When I first arrived in Bangkok in 1994, I followed the Lonely Planet guidebook’s advice and headed for Khaosan Road which was reportedly the place for backpackers in Bangkok. It is a short street about the length of about two city blocks at home, and was a hub of activity. The street was lined with restaurants, each totally open to the street and with a staircase leading to seedy rooms above. The rooms were tiny homes to bare beds and if you were lucky, a window and/or a ceiling fan. The bathrooms were shared, often with sinks in hallways, filthy squat toilets in tiny cubicles and showers that begged you to wear your sandals while performing your ablutions. Rooms went for about $2 a night. The restaurants were furnished with sturdy wooden tables and offered a wide variety of Thai delicacies, each one tastier than the last.

In front of the restaurants, stalls lined the sidewalks and spilled into the street offering such wares as bootleg cassette tapes, funky clothing and beaded jewellery. The deals were fantastic and it was impossible not to shop. Parties on Khaosan Road ran late into the night, backpackers drank endless bottles of beer as a mini UN met in each establishment. By 6:00 AM the street started to come alive again as vendors laid out the goods that had been packed up only a few hours earlier. I loved the vibe on the street.

When I returned to Bangkok in 2006, I made my first visit to Khaosan Road in the middle of an evening. The street was closed off to vehicles at this time of day but it was still almost impossible to weave my way through the mass of human traffic in the street. Neon lights glowed along the length of the street and music pumped out of the entrances of several bars whose depths were hidden behind black velvet curtains. A couple of the old restaurants were still there with their wooden tables and chairs, but I couldn’t find one set of stairs to rooms above. The guesthouses were all moved in behind the street, and I assume now offered clean rooms with windows and toilets. Settling onto one of the original, uncomfortable, wooden seats, I couldn’t find a green curry, but the menu offered hamburgers, souvlaki and every kind of pizza imaginable. Worse, a giant plastic Ronald MacDonald stood with his hands clasped in a prayer position in front of his restaurant mid-way down the street. Vendors sold bootleg CDs and DVDs, funky clothing and beaded jewellery as well as every trinket and souvenir imaginable. Backpackers sat patiently on plastic seats in the street as fake braids or dreadlocks were woven into their hair or henna tattoos applied to various body parts. The street didn’t wake up until mid-morning when the vendors and the backpackers had recovered from the previous night’s adventures. This new Khaosan Road was, as they say in Thailand, “same same but different”. I still enjoyed my short visits to the road whenever I passed through Bangkok, and sometimes I even sat on a hard wooden chair drinking a beer and watching the craziness on the street. But I never stayed long enough for a meal, preferring the real Thai fare in a nearby neighbourhood.

A short 18 months after my last visit to Bangkok, I arrived a couple of days ago to yet another Khaosan Road. This time, the music pumped out of not only the few darkened bars on the street, but also from every vendor’s stall and restaurant, each boom box trying to outdo the next. Touts walk through the throng of backpackers waving signs advertising “very strong” buckets of cocktails and handing out business cards for the various night clubs. I wandered the street last night, looking for a spot where I could indulge my pastime of people-watching from a sidewalk vantage point. After about ten minutes I left the street defeated. The head-pounding hip-hop and overwhelming crowds chased me into quieter venues. I don’t know which of us has changed the most, but I do know I have outgrown Khaosan Road.