There are many places in the world where I’d happily sit, at two o’clock in the morning, on a dirty curb, watching urban nightlife take its course.  But only one can be a favorite, and here it is:  Thailand’s Khao San Road.

Khao San (sometimes spelled Khao Sarn) is a 500-meter stretch of asphalt tucked away in Bangkok’s Banglamphu neighborhood.  Except for the occasional tuktuk or delivery truck, it is a pedestrian thoroughfare, trod by feet which eighteen to fifty years earlier had been delivered from wombs around the world.  It is a veritable United Nations of a street--only with dreadlocks and tank tops instead of suits and briefcases, as well as several tattoo shops.  It is also bookended by the sacred and the secular.  By this I mean that on the eastern end of the road stands Burger King, on the western end a Buddhist temple.  Sound good yet?

Backpackers on Khao San Road

A Korean backpacker has her hair tended to at a curbside stall on Khao San

I first visited Khao San Road in 2000 and have now returned three times.  At high noon, particularly in the hot season, the glare is blinding and the heat intense, and so there are relatively few people out and about.  But as the sun begins its descent, foreign backpackers emerge from the area’s guesthouses, shops, and temples.  Thais come out as well.  By dusk the street is ablaze with life.  Restaurants fill.  Tailors suggest clothes.  Young women outfitted in tight get ups provided by beer companies recommend you try one of numerous bars and clubs.  Barbers are trimming people’s hair and masseuses are pounding away at backs.  Travelers are sitting in front of travel agents, arranging flights to Bali and buses to Vientiane.   The place really is alive—numbers have dropped with the global economic downturn, but in a good year the street attracts 10 million visitors, 70 percent of whom are foreigners.

A street vendor at work on Khao San Road

Kids pass through Khao San on their way home from school

Since travel writers are not actually on vacation (contrary to popular perception), much of my time on Khao San Road, whether day or night, would be spent in that paragon of Thai culture called Starbucks.  Here there is air-conditioning, an outlet to juice up my laptop, and a rather nice ambience (set back from the street in a century-old wooden house, it is perhaps the nicest Starbucks in the entire city).  This, then, is where I write, where I up and download my photos, and where I occasionally meet other travelers as well as locals (who may, for example, be studying for an upcoming exam at Thammasat University).  I love the place.

Unfortunately, Starbucks closes by 10:00 p.m. on most nights and so I am booted out—albeit very kindly, by name, and with warm entreaties by the staff for a quick return—onto the curb.  Of course, I am very happy on the curb.

One of the things I miss about childhood is simply the view.  I’m 6’1” now, but once I was three feet tall and so I looked up on the world as much as I looked out on it.  From the curb, eye level once again with people’s thighs, things look different.  I’ll sit on the curb at 10 p.m, midnight, or maybe even 4:00 a.m.  Sometimes I’ll just sit, sometimes I’ll eat as well—a cone from McDonald’s (yep, there’s one of them too), a chocolate milk or beer from 7-Eleven, a plate of pad thai from a street vendor.  Sometimes a stranger will join me on the curb and we’ll talk about life.  Usually I’ll sit alone though, and I’ll think things like, I’m on the far side of the world and I’m in the middle of the night, and the world is fascinating.

Ah, the dirty concrete curb on Khao San Road.  It's a fine place, and sadly not included in most travel guides.  

Happy Hour on Khao San Road

View from above

Joel Carillet, chief editor of Wandering Educators, is a freelance writer and photographer based in Tennessee. He is the author of 30 Reasons to Travel: Photographs and Reflections from Southeast Asia. To learn more about him, or to follow his weekly photoblog, visit www.joelcarillet.com.