Eventually, every journey has to come to an end.

After months travelling through Southeast Asia, it was time to begin the long journey back to France.

Not that we were rushing.

That has never really been our style.

We had deliberately built in stops along the way, allowing ourselves time to transition rather than simply stepping off one plane in Asia and another in Europe and pretending our brains could adjust instantly.

Our route home would take us from Bangkok to Doha, then onto Athens for a few days before finally returning to France.

A long way around.

But after months on the road, we were in no particular hurry.

Leaving Prachuap Khiri Khan meant another five-hour minivan journey back to Bangkok.

As usual, the trip involved the familiar combination of cramped seats, interesting road conditions and wondering exactly how many people could fit into one vehicle before someone officially declared it full.

Along the way we stopped at a roadside station where I discovered a delicious little bun filled with black bean.

A simple snack.

Nothing fancy.

But after hours on the road, it was exactly what was needed.

Eventually we arrived at Bangkok’s Mochit New Van Terminal.

If there was ever a place designed to remind you that you have left the quiet beaches behind, this was it.

The heat hit us immediately.

Gone were the sea breezes and relaxed coastal towns.

We were back in the middle of one of Asia’s great megacities.

I stood on the side of the road slowly melting while AP attacked his phone, trying to summon a Grab through the chaos.

Fortunately, a kind security guard noticed my suffering and offered me a seat.

A small gesture, perhaps.

But after months of experiencing the warmth and friendliness of people throughout Thailand, it felt very familiar.

Thailand has a way of doing that.

It was not long before our Grab arrived, and we were whisked away towards one of our favourite parts of Bangkok.

The area around Phra Arthit Road has become almost like a second home to us.

We have been returning to this neighbourhood for more than fifteen years, and every time we come back there is a strange sense of recognition.

The streets may change slightly.

New cafes appear.

Old favourites disappear.

But the feeling remains.

Having stayed at Alley and Pier several times, it has become our Bangkok base.

Not because it is the fanciest hotel in the city—it isn’t.

But because travel is not always about finding the best place.

Sometimes it is about finding the place that feels familiar.

After checking in, we headed downstairs for what had become a very important priority.

Coffee.

Coffee Context has become one of our favourite spots, serving excellent coffee in a city where there is certainly no shortage of places trying to do exactly that.

After a rest, we wandered out for an evening drink at The Sheepshank Public House, just a short walk from the hotel and sitting right beside the Chao Phraya River.

This is one of the things I love about Bangkok.

The river is never still.

Sitting there with a gin and tonic, we watched long-tail boats dart between ferries, passenger boats move steadily up and down the river and enormous barges being pushed along by surprisingly small tugs.

There is something wonderfully chaotic about it.

A constant reminder that Bangkok is not just a city—it is a living, moving machine.

Later, we walked to one of the main reasons we always look forward to returning to Bangkok.

Hemlock.

We have been eating here for as long as we have been visiting the city, and wonderfully, very little has changed.

The menu remains enormous.

The food remains excellent.

And choosing what to order remains almost impossible.

My favourite dish is Miang Kum—a wonderful combination of lime, ginger, peanuts, dried shrimp, coconut and chilli, all wrapped in a Piper leaf and topped with a sweet herb sauce.

It sounds like it should not work.

It does.

It is one of those dishes where every bite seems to contain something different.

I also have a weakness for their banana flower salad and yellow curry.

Naturally, we ordered far too much food.

Naturally, we ate it all.

Some habits are worth maintaining.

The next morning began, as many good Bangkok mornings do, with coffee at Coffee Context.

Then it was time for another favourite.

Lunch.

We headed back to a small restaurant we have visited many times over the years. To this day, I still have no idea what the place is actually called. We have never quite managed to work it out, but somehow that has become part of its charm.

We know where it is.

We know what we like to order.

And that is really all that matters.

A steaming bowl of wonton noodle soup, crispy fried tofu and delicious pork ribs appeared on the table, accompanied by a cold ginger tea. It was exactly the kind of simple, satisfying meal we love about Bangkok.

After months of travelling, there is something comforting about returning to places where you already know what to expect. No research required. No decisions. Just good food and familiar surroundings.

Sadly, our Bangkok stay was short.

With an early flight the next morning, we moved to an airport hotel for our final night in Southeast Asia.

The Sinsuvarn Airport Suite Hotel has been part of our travel routine for years.

When we first stayed there, it was a simple little hotel surrounded by rice fields, almost appearing slightly stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Bangkok, however, has a habit of expanding.

The rice fields disappeared.

Buildings appeared.

Hotels multiplied.

And the once lonely airport hotel found itself surrounded by the unstoppable growth of the city.

These days it is a much more polished establishment, complete with a pool and restaurant.

We enjoyed dinner, packed our bags and went to bed early.

The alarm was set for a very unfriendly hour.

The Journey Home Begins

At 4 a.m. we were awake and heading to the airport on the hotel shuttle bus.

There is something slightly surreal about airports at that hour.

Everyone looks half asleep.

Nobody really wants to be there.

Yet somehow thousands of people are all moving in the same direction.

A few hours later we were airborne, leaving Bangkok behind and heading towards Doha.

We had chosen Qatar Airways partly because of their stopover program, which allowed us to break the journey with a night in Doha rather than enduring one enormous flight back to Europe.

After seven hours in the air, we landed at Hamad International Airport, cleared customs and made our way to our hotel.

The Crowne Plaza was comfortable, but honestly, the greatest luxury was not the hotel itself.

It was simply having a bed.

A proper bed.

After months of travel, there is something wonderful about arriving somewhere knowing you do not have to unpack, explore or figure anything out.

You can simply stop.

We had dinner, slept well and returned to the airport the following day ready for the next stage.

The flight from Doha to Athens was only around four hours, which after months of travelling felt almost ridiculously short.

It was also memorable for a completely unexpected reason.

Shortly after boarding, one of the lovely Greek flight attendants was rushing down the aisle preparing the cabin for departure when he accidentally clipped my arm, sending my hand crashing into the seat in front of me.

Now, in fairness, this was entirely my fault.

My arm was not exactly where it should have been.

However, the impact hurt so much that I actually burst into tears.

The poor man was horrified.

AP, sitting across the aisle, immediately leaned over to assure him I was fine, but he was absolutely beside himself. He disappeared down the aisle and returned moments later with two glasses of water, apologising profusely and promising he would check on me once we were in the air.

By the time he returned, I was completely fine.

The drama had passed.

My arm had survived.

All was forgiven.

We chatted for a while, he went back to his duties, and I thought that was the end of it.

Apparently not.

During the breakfast service, he appeared beside my seat carrying a bottle of what looked suspiciously like rather expensive champagne.

“Would you like some?” he asked.

Now, it was about 8 a.m.

But I am a firm believer that there are no real time rules when flying.

“Sure,” I said.

The usual airline pour is generally a small dribble into the bottom of a plastic cup, carefully measured as though the champagne supply is guarded by the military.

Not this time.

He filled the glass.

Properly.

“Lovely,” I said, while noticing several nearby passengers watching with interest. I could almost see the thoughts forming:

“Is everyone getting champagne?”

“Have we missed an announcement?”

“Was there a secret upgrade?”

Sadly for them, no.

This appeared to be a one-person apology program.

I sat back, enjoyed my bubbles and watched a movie.

A little while later, as my glass reached empty, my new Greek friend reappeared and quietly refilled it.

Excellent service.

When the coffee service came around, I accepted one.

Naturally.

The lovely flight attendant returned.

“Do you like Baileys?” he asked.

“Sure,” I replied, imagining perhaps a small glass of Baileys over ice.

No.

He took one of those tiny airline bottles and poured the entire thing into my coffee.

What could I do?

It would have been rude not to drink it.

By the time we landed in Athens, I was feeling very relaxed indeed.

Perhaps a little more relaxed than strictly necessary for navigating an airport.

But what a wonderful introduction to returning to Europe.

A comfortable flight.

A very kind flight attendant.

And a reminder that sometimes the best travel memories come from the unexpected moments.

Even when those moments begin with accidentally punching yourself in the arm.

After months surrounded by tropical heat, tuk-tuks, ferries, markets and endless bowls of noodles, Europe felt strangely familiar.

But Athens was waiting.

And after such a long journey home, we were ready to explore.