Final moments of a fantastic adventure

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The last hours of the trip passed in a kind of blur. Once the family were out the door there was a silence, and a stillness that we hadn't felt before. We left the room, which seemed strangely empty, even though it was filled with all our luggage, and wandered down onto Khao San Rd.

The minute we stepped out onto Trok Mayom the stillness and silence was gone, replaced by the neverending vibrancy of the Bangkok streets. We wandered through the market stalls, picking up last minute purchases and a bit of early Christmas shopping here and there. There was a lot of to and fro: from the store of the pawing cats, to the bikini stall, to the room for a rest. To the lantern stall, to the room to safely store the lanterns in the backpack. To the nice cushion lady who was eating and early bowl of noodles that evening, back to the room with the large, but happily purchased bundle of cushions. Time seemed to be sped up and the hours fell away like minutes.

Dinner had to be a Penang Curry matched with a banana and lemon shake. It was great. I only hope I can replicate the flavours in my own kitchen, or more trickily perhaps, track down the necessary ingredients to create such culinary masterpieces. Fingers crossed.

More stalls: tshirts, singlets, tiger balm, souvenirs, one last gaze over Khao San by night, thumping, seething, people everywhere.

We finished off back at Gecko: a Chang and a Mai Tai for the road. Rather surreally a fluffy bunny hopped under our table and began to chew at my toes. Not exactly what I'd be after for an evening snack but maybe things a different when you live closer to the ground.

To bed. It took a while to get to sleep. Our last night away. Finally sleep came and then it was morning.

The last day seemed even more hazy. We returned to the Joh lady, our first morning there (or even yesterday) seeming an eternity ago. This time she was sitting at the table beside us, a young girl, perhaps her granddaughter doing the honours with pot of bubbling breakfast. "A little more meat, a little less lemongrass", it's funny to see the cycles of life in other places, but good to know that the stall will continue long after our little old lady has moved on.

We had a Thai massage to eat away the hours and in hopes of relaxing the nerves a little. Well it was relaxing, but also very bendy and stretchy and a bit sore as our limbs were dragged this way and that by tiny little Thai women perched on our bags. Strange, but in a good way.

The last minutes before we checked out were stranger still as all sorts of emotions flooded me: excitement, happiness, I was scared and sad. I looked forward to being home, in my own room, with friends and family, but I was sad to leave Asia and all its charms, sad to give up the adventure and settle... at least for the time being.

Driving out the airport things felt flat, empty even though the landscape with its many skyscrapers of different shapes and sizes jutted up here and there. The new airport looked like something out of a sci-fi movie set in 2016 or something (or how it would have looked in the 80s minus the purple hair and jet packs), an odd monstrosity when juxtaposed with the workers lazing in the shade of their crudely made shelters on the roadside. But that's Asia, the modern and the traditional, the rich and the poor, side by side.

There were queues everywhere even though we were early. Signs about not taking firearms on board the planes. People drinking champagne and eating sushi on swivelly stools while families, piled high with duty free shopping waddle past.

The plane was an airconditioned bubble of constant noise and plastic food. Sleep evaded me; the noise of upset babies three rows in front didn't. It was a long flight.

And then it was over.

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