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We are in the first hour of our 15-hour train ride from Bangkok to Chiang Mai. This is an express train yet we haven't "expressed" our way very far since we have traveled a total of 15 minutes in a whole hour and we were only going 20 kilometers per hour. We are currently waiting at a station and have been for the last 20 minutes. Who are we waiting for? Perhaps a monk to arrive, who wants to catch a ride back to Chiang Mai after his long weekend in celebration of Buddha Day. Or maybe the not-so-ominous "Thai time" reveals itself at last, with all its glory as I stare out the third class window, perched on my once-was-gray-now-is-black plastic, hard seat. I can see rats devouring the remains of food stands that were bustling with people and brimming with delicious grub during the day. Abandoned, these food stalls have become a midnight feast for rodents desperate to find a pad thai noodle or leftover prawn dressed in green curry and coconut milk. Do these rats ever have it good!? This is most definitely the furthest cry from our first class train ride through Switzerland taking us from Geneva to Zurich. With a price comparison of $130 for that ride and $10 for this one, it's hard to put things into any kind of perspective. Since concepts of time are deeply rooted in each culture, the laid back feeling that permeates on this side of the world gives the people here more time to enjoy, to reflect and to listen to their surroundings. Rush, rush, rush exists, but not in the same way that it does in Europe or North America. Thai people still like to drive fast and arrive places on time, but at a different time and at a different speed then what we are used to. Here they don't worry about something being a "waste of time", or that they spent "20 minutes of my life I'll never get back." While traveling, we try not to use terms like those since everything that happens is part of our journey and that one day when we look back, we will remember a time when "time" ceased to matter. It sure felt like that in the Thai islands, less so in the bustling city of Bangkok.

Bangkok is a capital city just like any other. Well, as long as you add the 13 tonnes of pollution that drape across the trellises of each temple and apartment building, oh yes, and the 7.5 million inhabitants, the incredible sights, streets and atmosphere of the representing city of this spiritual nation. Charismatic Thai hospitality towards tourists and ex-pats (what the Thai refer to as "farang") sees no bounds, going as far as to offer up a whole quarter within the city to the "farang." Bangalampthu, in the city centre right next to Wat Pho and the Grand Palace is where visitors call their temporary home. A small stroll down Khao San Road will convince any foreigner that this Asian city is unlike any other, lined with clothing shops, restaurants, bars, "massage parlours" and whizzing colours and shades of so much more. At night, this quarter transforms into a booming centre of celebration and bohemia. If you have any inclination to stay longer, Bangkok's irresistible lights, food and atmosphere will be sure to convince you.

On the other side of the tracks, there are locals who require less glitz and glamour in their lives. Their homes lack the luster of decorative elements, shiny counter tops or the materialism that the "farang" are so accustomed to. These people whose houses adorn one side of the railway tracks are those whose laundry lines are always full of wet clothes, those whose homes are like dominos, ready to topple over during the next storm, if there ever was one; those whose stoves are never cold or empty, crowded with steaming pots and pans; and they are those who gather around a TV under 1 mosquito net, or brave the night with a few beers, friends and a guitar who fuel the real "culture" of the city. Stray dogs, cats, rats and bugs come to visit each porch reminding the Thai of the tropical climate they all endure and share in the common need for shade from the scorching heat brought in by each new day. The citizens of the Asian continent are poor, surrounded by the richness of a culture so mysterious and unknown. But they get it, and embrace it, no questions asked. Our curiosity will always be driven towards it and we will always strive to understand it. It is this juxtaposition of east and west that sets this capital apart from any other.

Bangkok's juxtaposition of opposites don't end here, they are hidden amid the nation's loyalty to its identity, indigenous culture and King. On the street corner that connects the Thieves Market to the lights and glam of Chinatown, the image of the 60-year old monarch and his Queen stand tall, glowing with stature and pride. This confidence and pride finds musical accompaniment at each street stall and shopping mall, it joins in spirit with Western philosophies and modernity, creating a smooth synergy as both cultures collide. When east meets west, a city should not look like a modern version of its former self, it should not resemble a more civilized reconstruction of its old infrastructure, that masks everything from the past. Nor should it transform and re-interpret age-old traditions, faith and customs. It should be, and already is, a healthy harmony of one opposite living alongside the other and working to build a mosaic in the essence of the greatest masterpieces of Thai cuisine, fusing the old with the new. How about some Pad thai, incorporating the old kick with a dash of zesty new spice? Mmmmm.

I see the city lights blurring behind me as the train finally decides to begin its journey. I look back at Bangkok and promise that I will return, maybe to live someday. If only to give it one more chance to charm me.