…. mostly for Grandmas and Grandpas, and because I had plenty of time to write on the plane 😉

Our stay in Bangkok wasn’t a classic vacation, but a stopover on our way to Christchurch, New Zealand, where we are entering on student and partner visas. We could have flown via other major cities, but we made a conscious decision to choose Bangkok—precisely because the city is so different. Different from anything Mary and Ferdinand had known before, and different from the places we usually travel to with them.

Until now, our trips with the children consisted of beautiful but very familiar destinations: Lake Garda at Pentecost with day trips to Venice, for example, summers in Croatia, or Sardinia as our highlight of 2024. So, the kids haven’t seen much of the world yet—especially not other cultures. And that is exactly what we wanted to change. We wanted Bangkok to be a completely new experience.

It all started at Munich Airport – with eight suitcases and four backpacks. A massive mountain of luggage, but after all, it contains everything we need until early March, when our container is due to arrive in Christchurch. Luckily, it’s summer in New Zealand, so we were able to pack plenty of light clothing. Regardless of the season, however, is the toy situation. In Ferdinand’s case, Lego took up almost half of his suitcase – especially an airplane he received as a farewell gift from Mario, which he was already incredibly excited to build once we get to New Zealand.

After a six-hour flight, we had a layover in Muscat, Oman. According to the internet, it’s a very beautiful city—though we only know the airport, where we spent two hours before continuing our journey.

We finally arrived in Bangkok in the evening, and the first impression was already overwhelming. Our boutique hotel was located right in the heart of Chinatown, with a reception reached via a red wooden bridge over a small koi pond. A large, decorated Christmas tree stood in the lobby, and the rooms were furnished with dark wood, grand four-poster beds, and red Chinese cabinets. For us, this was an unfamiliar level of luxury on vacation—until now, we’ve almost always stayed in holiday apartments or Airbnbs with the kids, usually as self-caterers.

“Even though we were exhausted—sleep was out of the question on the plane, not least because of the huge selection of movies on our screens—we wanted to get a bite to eat before heading to bed. So, we headed out into the streets of Chinatown.

Or rather: out into the chaos. Glowing, colorful neon signs everywhere, people from all corners of the globe, a thousand smells hitting us at once. Clattering pots, steaming dumplings, sizzling meat, fish. Plus cars, scooters, tuk-tuks—everything happening at once, everything in motion. The children were overwhelmed and wide-eyed with wonder. At the same time, we had to be careful not to step into puddles (was that fish-cooking water?), not to trip over broken curbs, or get caught on rusty wires—all while making sure not to walk in front of a vehicle. And in the midst of it all, we were trying to figure out what we actually wanted to eat.

The choices were endless. Much of it looked incredibly delicious, while other things seemed rather bizarre—at least to us Europeans: pig ears, chicken feet, scorpions. And then there was the durian. This fruit ‘scents’ the air on every corner in Bangkok. Even though it took some effort to overcome our hesitation, we gave it a try. And we were surprised to find that the fruit, which smells like ‘poop,’ doesn’t taste bad at all: creamy, fruity, somewhere between vanilla pudding, mango, and Limburger cheese.

A few streets further, we finally settled down for some Chinese food—with traffic passing just a meter away. But we had already ‘grooved’ into the rhythm. After just a short while, the children were moving through the crowds with total confidence, quickly realizing that despite the apparent chaos, everyone looks out for one another. You just have to know where you’re going—hesitating too long only causes confusion. And so, eating in the middle of the hustle and bustle very quickly felt more ‘right’ than sitting in a quiet, enclosed restaurant.

We ordered many small dishes—vegetables, meat, fish, chicken—and Ferdinand quite naturally went for a pork knuckle (already craving the classics 😉?) with Chinese sauce. To wash it down, we had ice-cold coconut water straight from the coconut. The children tentatively asked if there were cities in New Zealand like this one in Bangkok. We explained that Christchurch is completely different: quieter, greener, and with far fewer people. Their relief was palpable. They found Bangkok exciting and interesting—but living here? No. When Marie mentioned that, after all, it’s our job as adults to choose a place for our big adventure where they would enjoy living, we realized once again how children perceive such decisions and how much they trust us.

Golden Temples und Buddhas

The next morning, the breakfast buffet was waiting for us. I actually didn’t have any expectations—I’ve experienced plenty of hotel breakfasts on my business trips—but this one truly surprised me. A great mix of Asian and European styles, everything high quality, and set in a beautiful interior. What surprised me most, however, was Ferdinand. With glowing eyes, he took my hand and said, ‘Mama, I have to show you everything!’ Made-to-order omelets, fresh waffles, bacon, sausages, muesli, fruit. He dismissed the vegetables with a casual wave of his hand and the words: ‘I didn’t take those.’ When we finally all sat at the table, Thomas and I grinned at each other—until Thomas said, ‘Look under the table, Ferdinand is only wearing socks.’ In all the excitement, he had forgotten his shoes. This breakfast joy stayed with us every single day.

On Tuesday, we took the boat to the Wat Arun temple complex—in the sweltering heat. Thousands of visitors, most armed with selfie sticks, filming everything. Many of them in rented wedding attire, some even with their own photographers. Strike a pose here, strike a pose there—poses I would never have thought of myself. You got the feeling that this whole spectacle had been preceded by months of watching YouTube to capture the perfect photos here. It was crowded, hot, and smelled like durian everywhere. The mood dropped—for the kids and for me too. As much as the temple glittered in gold, we desperately needed a retreat. A cafe, quiet, with a view, and ideally with iced coffee. And we actually found one. From there, we looked out over Wat Arun, sat with just a few other guests, and enjoyed our iced caffe lattes. In that moment, Bangkok was suddenly beautiful again.

“Refreshed, we headed to the next temple complex in the afternoon—as the sun grew milder: Wat Pho. We joined the crowds of thousands pushing past the giant Reclining Buddha, but the further we went into the back of the temple grounds, the quieter it became. Instead of loud prayers blaring from speakers, we heard soft instrumental music. The setting sun bathed everything in a warm light, while monks were tying ropes for an upcoming ceremony. This atmosphere enchanted us. Golden Buddhas everywhere, and between them, cast-iron figures in yoga poses. We had some fun mimicking the poses and taking photos of each other. Right next to us, a Chinese couple was posing in rented wedding outfits. Snap, pose, snap. When they saw us laughing and making fools of ourselves, we all burst out laughing—maybe at ourselves, or maybe just at the absurdity of the situation.

Of course, a ride in a tuk-tuk was a must. At first, we had a bit of a queasy feeling: no seatbelts, an open vehicle, and a driver moving at quite a pace. But we told ourselves: no risk, no fun. And in all likelihood, it’s safer than driving a tuk-tuk in Germany with less traffic—precisely because the rules here in Bangkok are less rigid, which means everyone pays more attention to one another. No honking, no aggression—everything just flows. We ended the evening at the Red Sky Bar, 235 meters above the city.

New Year’s Eve in Bangkok – Detours, a Quirky Bar, and a Resolution

On New Year’s Eve at noon, we quickly reached a consensus: we wanted to spend the turn of the year by the water. That’s where the fireworks were supposed to be best and where the big shows were happening. It sounded like a great plan—until we looked closer. The subway connections were poor, a taxi or tuk-tuk for the way back on New Year’s Eve was out of the question, and it was simply too far to walk. So, Plan B. Or rather: a complete change of strategy.

Spontaneously, we came up with the idea of finding a rooftop bar. Getting up high, keeping an overview, and being able to walk back to the hotel later—suddenly, that sounded very sensible. We fired up Google, did some research, and actually found a bar that promised exactly that: well-hidden, not too famous, with a view over the city and overlooking two of the major New Year’s hotspots. We headed there and made a reservation on the spot—for a small, yet by Thai standards quite substantial ‘European fee,’ which would later turn out to be a great investment.

In the evening, we first strolled through the alleys of Chinatown and ate in a small, lovely restaurant. To make sure Ferdinand would actually last the night, he got an iced chai latte—a decision that proved to be extremely effective. Afterward, the four of us spontaneously went for a foot massage, sitting side by side while the New Year’s hustle and bustle outside slowly picked up speed. A perfect moment to catch our breath before moving on.

Around 10 PM, we finally made our way to the rooftop bar. From the outside, the building looked quite unassuming, almost a bit shabby. It had likely been a parking garage once. Only upon closer inspection did you realize that the bar was located on the outside of the building—right where the car ramps used to be. And that was exactly its charm: a ‘slanted’ bar in every sense of the word.

We followed the ramp upward and entered an open space with huge, unglazed window fronts. No glass, nothing separating us from the warm night air. The view over Bangkok was breathtaking: a sea of lights stretching to the horizon, with the two central spots where the fireworks would later be launched visible in between. Our reservation fee included three cocktails per person—a detail that sweetened the start of the evening even more.

The atmosphere was relaxed, expectant, and international. People from all over the world, good music, the warm air, the sounds of the city below us. Shortly before midnight, an impressive drone show began. Thousands of drones formed glowing images in the sky—precise, calm, almost meditative compared to what was to follow.

At the stroke of midnight, the city exploded. Fireworks everywhere, across the entire city of nine million. Colors, lights, cheering. And as we stood there, cocktails in hand, surrounded by happy people, that feeling bubbled up again—the one that had accompanied me over the last few days: the goodbye to family and friends, the uncertainty of whether everything would work out as we hoped, and at the same time, this deep hope that our plan would succeed.

Thomas saw my expression immediately. He pulled me close and whispered in my ear: ‘It’ll be okay—we’ll get through this together.’ Very much in the style of Bob the Builder: Can we fix it? Yes, we can.

A kiss, a hug, the clinking of cocktail glasses. All around us, lights, music, laughter. And below us, a city that seemed to stand completely still that night—clogged, overcrowded, yet full of energy. It was a good feeling to be able to simply walk back to the hotel later. In bed, still buzzing from the night, we came up with perhaps our most unusual New Year’s resolution—somewhere between the cocktail mood and a touch of homesickness for our Bavarian roots: In 2026, we will lay the foundation for establishing the word ‘fei’ in New Zealand. Thomas insisted that the goal had to be measurable. So, we agreed that ‘fei’ should be in the New Zealand dictionary in ten years at the latest 😊.

New Year’s Day began with a breakfast that featured fortune cookies this time—bearing very positive messages for us. Afterward, we spent a lot of time on the river boats, visited Lumphini Park, and finally ended the evening on the legendary Khao San Road. Marie was hungry, so we went into the first large bar we saw that served food. As it turned out, we had unknowingly picked the best bar on the strip—mostly because of the ‘women’ who worked there. During the evening, they started dancing in front of the bar to attract customers, eventually encouraging Marie and me to join in. The atmosphere was joyful, warm, and infectious. At first, Ferdinand showed little interest in the pretty, scantily clad dancers. It wasn’t until we pointed out that at least three of the five women were likely men that he suddenly started looking very closely. After that, we continued wandering through the street—colorful, loud, quirky, and fascinating.

At the insect stall, we faced the big question: would we really dare to try larvae, mealworms, frogs, and grasshoppers? Thomas bravely led the way, and I followed with a grasshopper—but the frog was where I drew the line. I just couldn’t eat it. Then came Ferdinand. Completely unfazed. He just ate the stuff and grinned from ear to ear. He matter-of-factly remarked that it was a super tasty snack—better than chips and even healthier too. That’s my boy! And that wasn’t all: he even ventured to try the frog. He commented on every single step with an almost analytical focus:

‘Hmm, the leg is good—really crunchy. Now the belly—hmm, also good. I’m a bit scared of the head… one second… chomp—into the mouth… hmm, that’s really delicious too!’

With a wide grin, of course. In the end, Ferdinand even got his own bowl filled only with frogs and grasshoppers and devoured them with relish. A Thai man stood nearby, watching the scene with a huge smile. He was probably thinking something like: ‘Funny little “long-nose” kid with surprisingly good taste.’ 😉 Since then, we’ve had a new nickname for him: FFF—Ferdinand the Frog-Feeder (or Frog-Eater).

On Friday, it was time to say goodbye. One last breakfast, packing the suitcases, and then off to the airport in a golden minivan taxi—complete with a karaoke system. We took one last photo with the King in the background, then boarded our flight to Sydney. A nine-hour journey. Marie’s comment: ‘Wheee—eating in front of the TV again!’

Bangkok was loud, chaotic, exhausting, and fascinating all at once. But above all, it was a gift: a chance to see the world anew—through the eyes of our children. And for exactly that reason, this stopover was perfect.