Pak Khlong Talat is Bangkok’s famous flower market, so I arrived expecting flowers. My nose had other plans.
Deep inside the wholesale market, garlic, shallots, lemongrass, galangal and ginger jostle for attention. Garlic bites, ginger tingles, and bruised lemongrass releases its sharp, citrusy perfume as vendors peel, chop, trim and haul produce from sacks. Trading starts after midnight, and by morning restaurant owners and market vendors are stocking up for the day. Beneath all those photogenic bouquets, Pak Khlong Talat is still busy feeding Bangkok.
Two centuries ago, my nose would have found fish. Pak Khlong Talat was once the city’s principal fish market, and apparently a rather pungent one. The odour became so troublesome near the Grand Palace that King Chulalongkorn had the fish market moved to Hua Lamphong. Fruit and vegetables took its place, later came flowers. The merchandise changed. The market kept hustling.
Along Chakkraphet Road, roses and orchids tumble from florist shops, yet I’m surprised by how little I smell them. Keeping flowers fresh, I learn, takes work. Deliveries arrive, stems are snipped, buckets scrubbed, water changed. The air smells as much of wet stems, leaves and pavement as petals. Freshness here isn’t simply natural. It is produced.
Near Memorial Bridge, jasmine finally wins. Garlands are misted with water and cooled with ice to stop the tiny buds opening too quickly in Bangkok’s heat. Up close, their sweetness is soft but unmistakable. It belongs not just to the flower trade, but to temples, offerings and everyday ritual.
Following my nose through Pak Khlong Talat, I pass through several economies without ever leaving the market. The products keep changing. The business of keeping Bangkok supplied does not.
