What can be worse than horrible coffee? That’s right, horrible coffee that you actually paid for. Boiled black printer ink, you know? Luckily, this tiny stall in Chatuchak Market has nailed its priorities.
The name says it all. Laughed my ass off when I saw it. OK. FRESH COFFEE. Fantastic. Stale coffee? Not okay. I had to take their word for it though than test it myself. It was scorching yesterday in the popular Bangkok weekend market so I opted for a refreshing lemonade.
I walked for hours, covering the length of Pluto, each turn presenting a pleasant surprise. A riot of colors. Exotic scents. Delicious smells shooting straight to my belly people. Strange stuff and the common with an entertaining twist.
They weren’t joking when they said everything can be found here. I’m pretty sure even dried vampires are sold somewhere, I just didn’t find the right section of the market. The boy would have loved this place. He will hate the heat and the walking but will fully enjoy the bargain shopping. I miss him.
I miss him most with every meal. This is how I am certain of how I feel for him. With the rest of the world, there is never a ‘we’ in food. But with the boy, eating becomes infinitely more pleasurable, the food tastier and more interesting. It makes me happier. But as I am quite alone here in Bangkok, I try to remain strong and devour my meals with as much gluttony as I can muster. For the glory of my belly people.