BY THE RIVER CHAO PHRAYA, I SAT DOWN AND MUSED.

As the hostile sun started to burn through the clouds and beat on my sunburned neck, the boat that would take me to the Royal Grand Palace was already cramped with early morning commuters. It was only eight A.M. in the “Land of Smiles” – Thailand.

I was warned not to take a taxi. Daytime traffic is tricky and can only get worse all throughout the evening.

“The best and only way to go around old Bangkok is by boat,” said the woman from the concierge while unfurling a map in front of me. Her fingers gyrated as she pointed out landmarks, prescribed stops along the way and carefully directed my attention to the little sois that will take me back to the hotel. The possibility of hiring the cute “tuk-tuk” driver whom I met the night before while looking for a couturier in the area didn’t escape my thought. I decided to stick to what I have been told.

Together with other commuters, we swarmed the russet-brown water on longtail ferry boats skimming the city’s biggest waterway. The Chao Phraya river snakes on a 219 mile-long stretch and meanders through its quieter klongs where hyacinths and lilies bob on the surface of the water. Every twist and turn brings the modern traveler closer to the city’s historical contours of each riverside neighborhood.

Bangkok’s Chao Phraya is a story in itself. A surging, restless living character whose past is intricately intertwined with the city it flows through. In May 1950, a coup d’état took place here where the Prime Minister at the time was taken at gunpoint. After being held hostage overnight inside a warship that was anchored in the middle of this great river, the Prime Minister hastily swam ashore after his release, just in time the air force obliterated the ship. 

King Rama I once described it – the lifeblood of Thailand. The river feeds the broad Central Plains, creating the fertile rice bowl of the Kingdom and remains a crucial gateway to the outside world.

These days, more than 50,000 people use the river for transport. From slender high-speed boat taxis with their colorful flags to luxury private cruise as well as behemoth barges hauling cargos heading to the Gulf of Siam. 

To the daily commuters, river taxis are a practical way of getting around, avoiding toll delays and the city’s congested traffic. To most visitors, the ride promises a sensory journey with views of gilded palaces, quirky markets and wooden bungalows teetering on the water’s edge.

From time to time, one catches a glimpse of intermingling faiths. Chinese shrines stand close to mosque minarets, Buddhist and Hindu temples nestling on one side and Christian churches modeled in Portuguese style on the opposite bank. There are temples dedicated to Buddha and its many forms or Tathagathas – the emerald in Wat Phra Kaew and the golden in Wat Arun. Aside from the usual enlightened pose, there’s also the famous reclining Buddha in Wat Pho. Perhaps the most unusual sight to behold is at Tuptim, a phallic shrine that brings protection and good fortune to those who visit.  

Upstream, water lizards seek shelter under a Banyan tree while cats patrol the roofs of shophouses that may have belonged to an Indian, Chinese or Middle Eastern family who have found a home here since the 19th century. So Heng Tai Mansion is one of the oldest private residences in the city preserved in Hokkien-style fashion. 

Over the years, a number of forgotten riverside neighborhoods have gone into gentrification. A handful of new event spaces and art galleries have opened together with trendy restaurants and cafes attracting younger local crowds and foreign tourists to rediscover the enduring old-world and new-fangled charm. 

Among the old and the newly built, the Author’s Wing at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel is a place of riparian respite for the high-heeled and traveling scribes. Somerset Maugham and Noel Coward frequented the place. Joseph Conrad and Graham Greene once sojourned in one of the 40 commodious rooms overlooking the evocative river. In their eyes, Bangkok was the Venice of the East.

Cruising along the Chao Phraya river, one sees a different side of the city. By the river and aboard a boat, Bangkok’s way of life drifts past like the fleeting expressions of the people who come on board. Their worry lines and infectious smiles are almost familiar. Their gaze catches yours and in an instant, there’s an indescribable sense of knowingness and complicity. You start to relax and warm up to what the Thais called sabai sabai. Along its banks, communities flourish and dream,  a world away from the daily grind of the buzzing capital. Memories are left in the water’s wake as new ones are formed by rising waves. 

I held the map the woman from the concierge gave me that morning and ran my hands on the wrinkled pages. Feeling pleased to have followed her wisdom, I folded it neatly and placed it back inside my knapsack.

It was almost midnight when I got back to where I started my peregrination. Colorful strobe lights from the buildings cast their reflection on the waters, the city’s silent witness to the tides of change. The pavements no longer shine like blazing silvery sheets as they had done that morning. Seeing me alighting from the boat, the cute driver revved up the engine of his “tuk-tuk” and from a distance, I heard the chanting of monks, as if to wish me a safe and sweet journey ahead.