Flights in Asia flights are often oddly timed—my flight leaves Sri Lanka was at 1:30 in the morning, yawn—in order to meet up with one of the departure “banks” at one of the giant airports, Mumbai, Singapore, or Bangkok.
What to have for breakfast, when it isn’t even really breakfast time yet?
In the last week I’ve curry for breakfast. Coconut thingies. “Hoppers” and “string hoppers”, which are Sri Lankan specialties. Once I tiptoed onto a limb for pancakes. They were actually crepes. Before Daddy ordered a milkshake in Sri Lanka he asked exactly how it was made. “Ice cream and milk,” said the man and Daddy was in. A few minutes later Daddy shook his head, “they didn’t mention the chunks of actual ice.”
The Bangkok airport is huge. The halls are wide. The levels are many. The departure board is gargantuan.
They clearly cater to the international crowd. Over there is a Mr. Donut. On the left is a Coldstone Creamery. There’s a Dairy Queen.
And down there, at the end, isn’t that a Burger King!
I’d never eat at Burger King in California, but somehow here it feels like home.
Eating is such an emotional thing. There were plenty snacks on our bus in Sri Lanka—chilied cashews, unfamiliar wafer cookies, dried jack fruit—but when our Room to Read leader pulled out treats from Trader Joe’s she was mobbed. Clif bars! And I…who am faster than most…actually snagged a packet of Oreos.
It’s so early I’m not thinking right– 5:15 a.m. local time who knows where my body clock is—but I decide that Burger King will be just fine.
And there’s not even a line.
But, sigh, turns out that’s because Burger King is closed until six in the morning. As I read the sign, I also notice the tired horde of westerners are camped out waiting for 6:00 to roll around. All of the American-branded restaurants, it seems, are closed yet.
I settle on Whittard of Chelsea, a British tea shop, for a cup of tea and croissant.
Whittard’s also sports that elusive item every modern traveler is looking for: