My Thailand 1993

When I first arrived in Thailand in January 1993, I had no idea this country would never let me go.

My arrival in Bangkok is etched deep in my memory. Back then, Don Mueang was the city’s only airport. Many planes were still parked out on the tarmac, and buses took passengers to the terminal. I’ll never forget stepping off the plane after a German winter and suddenly walking into a wall of tropical heat. It was overwhelming—almost like a physical blow. But at the same time, I immediately had this feeling: something new begins here.

Back then, I was traveling as a backpacker and found myself a simple room on Khaosan Road. It was already a popular meeting place for travelers, but nowhere near as polished and carefully staged as it is today. Less globalized, less polished, but more immediate and authentic.

On my hotel owner’s recommendation, I soon visited a massage parlor a few streets away, staffed exclusively by blind massage therapists. I arrived with back pain from the long flight and left feeling like a new person. That first massage was a revelation. It was precise, calm and soothing. I still think back on it today.

That was also the beginning of something culinary that has stayed with me ever since. Just around the corner, I discovered Bangkok’s street food stalls. Back then, they cooked as a matter of course for people in the neighborhood—for workers, office staff and drivers. Not for tourists. Not as an event. Just because people needed to eat. Until then, I barely knew Thai food. But after just a few dishes, I knew: this was the start of a great love.

Bangkok was a completely different city in 1993.

There was no Skytrain.

There was no subway. 

There were relatively few high-rise buildings.

We often got around by tuk-tuk. 

Street art barely featured. 

And there were no costume-rental shops at the temples yet for those perfect souvenir photos.

People moved through this city differently back then. More slowly. Less confidently. But perhaps more alert, too.