Villa Guest House

We arrived late at night. At the end of a small corridor between houses we found ourselves in front of a large wooden door. To announce ourselves, we rang the old bronze bell swinging above our heads. Soon the gate was opened - not by the owner but by another guest, who was enjoying the tropical night underneath the floral canopy of the luscious garden, aided by an herbal cigarette. He guided us to the living room, indicating that we would find the owner there. As we approached the silhouette of the old bangkokian house, the warm smell of wood was all around us. We entered through the front door into the living room. Lit by the warm glow of several lamps, and filled with books and antique fans, it was like stepping back in time. As there was noone to be found - neither in the living room, nor upstairs - we sat down and waited in silence, listening to the crackling wood. (We hadn't noticed the second, smaller bell beneath the message board, that we could've rang to draw further attention.) For half an hour, we lived in absolute bliss. Rather than being taken aback by the receptionists absence at our announced time of arrival or giving in to our tiredness and post-flight exhaustion, the atmosphere of the house captivated us fully. It wasn't long after, that the owner, who may be one of the last true practitioners of biphasic sleep, awoke and handed us the keys to our room. The following morning we we're woken by the song of a myriad birds. Our windows were like frames onto an imagined paradise, with bright, pink flowers dotting a sea of green filled with tropical shrubbs, ranking vines and the voluptuous leafs of palm trees. Villa Guesthouse is truly one of the last sanctuaries amidst the urban jungles of Bangkok.