For our last night in Bangkok before heading to Cambodia, Susan and I taxi’d it from the hotel to the Chinatown section of the city to walk along its main drag and find a place to eat.

Steering clear of all the eateries specializing in the shark fin and bird nest soups — the former being personally abhorent in its cruelty — we settled on the above hole-in-the-wall place down a dark and dingy sidestreet for a simple meal of chicken and rice washed down with Singha beers (total 240 baht; roughly $7), our sidewalk table presided over by a gang of geckos hanging out on the wall beside me and themselves feasting on the prevalent insects.

Chinatown was a vibrant and pulsing gridlock of humanity, and I’m glad Susan and I ventured out to experience it.