15march26
NONTHABURI, THAILAND 🇹🇭 GRAFFITI: “HEEHE!” MICHAEL JACKSON
15march26
SAIGON, VIETNAM 🇻🇳: THE FIRST WEEK OF MAY IN COFFEE
A cà phê sữa đá on a busy median.
Traffic whizzing by, but somehow, sitting on a tiny red stool with sweet coffee in my hand became the only thing I noticed. The coffee lady looked lonely out there in the middle of the chaos — cars, trucks, motorbikes rushing past with no pause, her little cart full of drinks waiting for customers. So I stayed a while. Maybe made her day a little less lonely. Maybe she did the same for me.
On Monday mornings, I wake up before the church bells, before the roosters, and certainly before any coffee ladies. So, on those mornings, I have a canned coffee waiting in the wings of my arsenal (you may call it a mini fridge.)
This brand happens to be deeply tied to the “First Lady of Coffee” in Vietnam, Le Hoang Diep Thao.
To understand King Coffee, you have to look back at Trung Nguyen, the powerhouse brand founded in 1996 by Le Hoang Diep Thao and her then-husband, Dang Le Nguyen Vu.
• TNI Label: Notice the “TNI” logo at the top, which stands for Trung Nguyen International—the entity Thao managed.
• The Flavor Profile: It is designed to mimic the “Vietnamese Bold Style,” which typically uses Robusta beans for a high caffeine content and a distinct, smoky bitterness. Hello!
• Cultural Iconography: The design featuring a woman in an Áo dài and a Nón lá (conical hat) is a deliberate choice to brand the coffee as an authentic cultural export of Vietnam. 🇻🇳
One of this week’s specialty coffees was at Café Linh, tucked around Trương Định and Phạm Hồng Thái. Coffee with lime zest — sharp, bitter, refreshing all at once. Vietnam never runs out of ways to reinvent coffee without ruining it! Holla!
Another stop was a mild but tasty cà phê sữa đá on Đỗ Quang Đẩu Street. The young staff guy there had the kind of genuine smile that makes decisions for me. The café next door wanted my business more aggressively, but this place earned it quietly. 😊
The flavor logic is straightforward. Mint cools. Vietnamese coffee is dark, bitter, and heavy. The mint lifts it, adds a cold brightness that hits your nose before it hits your tongue. 😛
One of my favorite moments this week came before 8am on Đỗ Quang Đẩu. Sitting with a ca Phe den đá, watching the city wake itself up in real time. Motorbikes flowing toward school drop-offs and office jobs. Street vendors emerging from narrow hẻms, deciding where to set up for the day. Women carrying boards of sunglasses and lighters trying to sell me shades while I’m already wearing prescription Ray-Bans. You have to respect the hustle.
Between about 7:00 and 7:40 there’s this brief window where Saigon feels almost gentle. A little breeze moving through the streets before the sun fully takes over. The more pleasant the weather, the longer I sit and read. Currently reading “A Naked Singularity” by Sergio De La Pava.
But eventually the heat wins.
That’s usually when I go searching for my breakfast bánh mì from my favorite lady — the one who adds tomatoes without charging extra, then refuses to accept the extra 5,000 đồng tip I want to give her because I appreciate the gesture. It’s become our daily little battle. One I eventually win. 😊
Vietnam keeps giving. And I keep receiving with gratitude. 🙏
May 2026
NONTHABURI, THAILAND 🇹🇭 GRAFFITI: BOOGIE DOWN & STAY MEDICATED
15march26
BANGKOK, THAILAND 🇹🇭 GRAFFITI: ABANDONED
NONTHABURI, THAILAND: PINK TRUMPET TREE
Pink Trumpet Tree (Tabebuia rosea). One of Thailand’s most beloved trees. They typically bloom from February through April. They’re planted widely along streets and in urban areas throughout Bangkok and the greater Nonthaburi area.
It’s native to Central and South America, but has been widely cultivated across Southeast Asia. In Thailand, it’s sometimes called ชมพูพันธุ์ทิพย์ (Chompoo Phantip). It’s often compared to Japan’s cherry blossoms.
I love this tree, in particular. I make a point to visit it on my walks. I have been taking picture after picture of it, but can never do it justice. This pic is the closest I could get to showing you its truth.
READING: The Overstory by Richard Powers
If you know, you know…
March 2026
BANGKOK, THAILAND 🇹🇭: HUMBLE REFLECTION
There are places that do not ask you to become someone new.
They simply show you what is already there.
The longer I move, the less I expect transformation from geography.
Sometimes a city does not change you.
It reflects you.
Bangkok, again.
By the lake, the shrine becomes a reminder that human settlement is never fully separate from the natural world. It says: we build here, but we recognize what was here before us.
In Nonthaburi especially, where waterways shape daily life, such a shrine is less decorative and more relational. It reflects a worldview where coexistence matters more than dominance.
It is less about superstition and more about humility.
28feb26
BANGKOK (NONTHABURI,) THAILAND GRAFFITI: IMPERMANENCE IN PROGRESS
According to the tags, I see a “2022”, which would mean this building has been on pause for a while, and while everyone waits, vandals visit at night…
23feb26
BANGKOK, THAILAND 🇹🇭: SPIRIT HOUSES
The first time you come to Thailand, you notice them everywhere.
Tiny temples at the edge of sidewalks. In front of banks. Outside 7-Elevens. Guarding construction sites. Sitting confidently in front of corporate headquarters as if they were always part of the blueprint.
They are called ศาลพระภูมิ, spirit houses.
They are homes.
Long before Buddhism took root here, animist beliefs shaped daily life. The land had spirits. The trees had spirits. The ground itself was inhabited. When you build on land, you displace something. The solution is not to ignore it. The solution is to provide a new residence.
So, you build a house. Elevated. Facing an auspicious direction. Installed with ceremony. Blessed by monks or Brahmin priests. Carefully placed according to astrology.
Inside you will see incense, marigold garlands, fruit, rice, jasmine water, and often bottles of bright red Fanta. Offerings for the guardian spirit of that land. A gesture of respect. A request for protection. A quiet negotiation between the visible and the unseen.
What moves me is not the shrine itself. It is the coexistence.
A glass tower in Bangkok will still have a spirit house at its entrance. A multinational corporation with quarterly earnings reports and biometric scanners still pauses to light incense in the morning. A luxury condo will cast a shadow over a tiny gilded house that stands firmly in front of it.
Modernity here does not erase belief. It builds around it.
February 2026
KOH KRET, THAILAND 🇹🇭: HONORING MON HERITAGE
Mon heritage refers to the cultural traditions of the Mon people, an ethnic group from mainland Southeast Asia who migrated into central Thailand centuries ago.
On Koh Kret, Mon heritage is still visible in temple architecture, pottery, language traces, food, and religious art. It reflects a community that preserved its identity while blending into Thai society.
This photo series captures those living details. Not museum pieces, but everyday expressions of a culture that has endured along the river for generations.
The leaning pagoda on Koh Kret is at Wat Poramaiyikawas Worawihan, and it’s one of the island’s most recognizable landmarks.
It’s a white Mon-style chedi that tilts noticeably toward the Chao Phraya River. It wasn’t built that way on purpose. Over time, riverbank erosion caused the structure to lean. The river literally reshaped the foundation beneath it.
The pagoda dates back to the 18th century, after Koh Kret was formed in 1722 when a canal was dug and later widened into what became the island. The Mon community that settled there built temples in their traditional style, and this chedi reflects that heritage.
What makes it powerful isn’t just that it leans. It’s that it’s still standing. It feels like a visual metaphor for Koh Kret itself. Formed by water. Shaped by migration. Adjusting, but enduring.
This scene represents the Buddha in meditation, surrounded by symbols of protection, strength, and awakening.
The seated Buddha reflects calm awareness and liberation from suffering. His posture suggests meditation after enlightenment. The small altar in front holds offerings, which symbolize generosity and devotion rather than worship. In Buddhism, offering flowers, incense, or small Buddha images is a way of cultivating merit and gratitude.
The elephant in front carries deep meaning. In Buddhist tradition, a white elephant appeared in Queen Maya’s dream before the Buddha’s birth, symbolizing purity and the arrival of an enlightened being. The elephant also represents mental strength and discipline. A trained elephant is often used as a metaphor for a trained mind.
The serpent figure beside him likely represents a naga. After the Buddha attained enlightenment, the naga king Mucalinda sheltered him from a storm by spreading his hood over him. Nagas symbolize protection and the harmony between nature and spiritual awakening.
The parasol above the Buddha is a royal and spiritual symbol. It represents honor, protection, and the sovereignty of the Dharma.
Together, this scene is not about spectacle. It visually teaches key Buddhist ideas: discipline of the mind, protection through wisdom, generosity through offerings, and the calm stability of enlightenment amid the changing world.
Chit Beer on Koh Kret is one of Thailand’s original grassroots craft breweries.
Founded by a homebrewer named Chit, it began at a time when Thai alcohol laws made small-scale brewing extremely difficult. Instead of going corporate, he operated on a small, community-based model on Koh Kret, building a following among locals and expats.
It’s widely considered a pioneer of Thailand’s craft beer movement. Today, it’s known for experimental small-batch beers served in a laid-back riverside setting, and for quietly challenging the country’s restrictive brewing regulations.
Reclining Buddha at Wat Klang Kret.
This reclining image represents the Buddha entering Parinirvana, his final passing beyond the cycle of rebirth.
This is a sacred tree on Koh Kret, covered in red and green cloth ribbons tied by visitors.
In Thai Buddhist culture, tying a ribbon or piece of cloth to a tree like this is a way of making a wish or asking for blessings. It can be for health, protection, success, or gratitude for something already received. The act itself is simple, but it’s symbolic. You tie your intention to the tree.
Often these trees are believed to house a protective spirit, sometimes referred to as a nang mai or local guardian spirit. Even in predominantly Buddhist spaces, Thailand blends animist traditions with Buddhist practice. The tree becomes a living focal point of faith.
You’ll also notice the small white stupa wrapped in red cloth nearby. Red fabric in Thai spiritual practice often signifies protection and sacredness.
On Koh Kret, where Mon heritage and river life shape the culture, this kind of scene reflects how belief isn’t confined to temple walls. It spills outward. Into trees. Into courtyards. Into everyday space.
This is inside Wat Poramaiyikawas Worawihan on Koh Kret, the island’s main temple and spiritual center for the Mon community.
The large golden Buddha in the center represents the historical Buddha in meditation, symbolizing calm awareness and enlightenment. The smaller ornate structure in front holds a revered Buddha image, often treated as the focal point for offerings and prayer.
Behind the statues, the mural depicts celestial realms. You can see heavenly beings floating in blue clouds around a central elevated structure. This represents Buddhist cosmology, particularly the heavenly realms where beings are reborn through good karma. It’s not fantasy decoration. It’s a visual map of the moral universe in Buddhist thought.
The layers matter. Buddha in the foreground represents enlightenment. The heavens behind represent the consequences of virtuous action. Offerings at the base represent merit-making by devotees.
On Koh Kret, this temple is deeply tied to Mon heritage. The art, structure, and iconography reflect both Thai and Mon traditions blended together.
This scene is essentially a full Buddhist worldview in one frame. Enlightenment at the center. Karma unfolding around it. Community devotion at its base.
A sacred tree wrapped in red cloth, honoring the spirit believed to dwell within it. A lone bicycle resting in the shade. The river just beyond the wall.
On this island, everyday life and quiet devotion share the same ground.
GETTING THERE:
Here’s the clearest, easiest route from central Bangkok to Koh Kret that tourists can follow without stress:
🚆 Option 1: MRT + Taxi (Easiest & Most Reliable)
Take the MRT (Purple Line) to Khlong Bang Phai Station (end of the line). From the station, take a Grab or taxi to Wat Sanam Nuea Pier (about 15–20 minutes). At the pier, take the local ferry across to Koh Kret. Ferry ride: 2–3 minutes Cost: around 3–5 baht
This is the simplest route with minimal confusion. ✌️ 😊 🚕 🛥️
21feb26
BANGKOK, THAILAND 🇹🇭: IT DOESN’T END
Standing above the road in Mo Chit, looking down the long stretch of asphalt, it hit me that Bangkok doesn’t begin or end anywhere. It just extends. The lanes run forward like unfinished sentences. Motorbikes move steadily, not rushed, not slow. It’s just forward motion.
That road felt like where I am in life right now. Not at a starting line. Not at an ending. Just in the middle of something wide and ongoing. Bangkok is very good at that feeling. You’re never arriving. You’re just continuing.
Mo Chit is a transit point, but it’s also a metaphor for in-between spaces. It’s where people pass through, but no one really stays. I like places like that.
Bangkok doesn’t separate the sacred from the everyday. It folds them together. Monks take the train. Office workers scroll their phones. Vendors sell grilled meat outside stations. Shrines sit in front of glass towers. It all functions in the same rhythm.
The blue building. Just life happening.
There’s something about Mo Chit that feels less performative than central Bangkok. It’s working-class, transitional, functional. It’s not trying to impress anyone. It’s just moving.
I watched a woman hand over a plastic bag of food at a small street stall. No ceremony. Quick exchange. Efficient. Routine perfected through repetition.
This is what I mean when I say Bangkok wakes up slowly but deliberately. It doesn’t explode into the day. It slides into it.
And then the mural behind the glass. Serendipitous reflection explosion 💥.
A small boat with a few people sitting quietly. High-rises in the distance. Leaves turning yellow above the surface. The city doesn’t erase. It builds next to it.
20feb26