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Not The Last Night?

I was going to write about high-tech Bangkok tonight. Mobile phone chargers in the railway station, going for a haircut, sending a text message, and getting a discount voucher in response, electrically operated chairs and head massages. But I won't.

You know it makes sense to be packing when you're leaving first thing in the morning, but instead you find yourself wandering down Koh San Road at 02:00, pissed, avoiding ladieboys, and spilling ice-cream down your shirt while you buy twenty CDs from Run, your new music consultant. At the same time you're trying hard to believe that tonight is your last night in Bangkok, that tomorrow you're off to Brunei, then back to Europe, and the room you've kept for the last six weeks is no longer your own. No. I can't believe it either, but I'm already planning my next trip here just in case it's true.

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