Custom(house) in Thailand

It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. No exaggeration. After three days of having my Fiancee's plane-breath six inches from my face and with less that five hours sleep, with nothing but sheer determination and the knowledge that I had already shelled out for the bike hire, I dragged both of our jet-lagged, hungover Walking Dead-esque bodies into our hotel lobby and wedged myself onto a tiny, rock-hard bicycle seat that must once had been a device of medieval castration.

Down by the river the old Customhouse would have been one of the most beautiful sights in Thailand, with it's columned facade and carved circular windows rivaling even the most beautiful gold-plated temples. Nowadays, it it crumbling and had lost most of its former glory but now it holds another special honor. It is home to firefighters who work on the Fire Squad on the River and the families of the city's Fire Brigade.

Outside there is a spice 'market', consisting of a rickety wheelbarrow jammed full of sacks of colorful spices, the likes of which no non-Thai native has ever seen. For whatever reason a lovely lady took pity on us shivering in the rain with our cameras hidden under our ponchos and we were allowed the special privilege of entering into the beautiful old structure that is now someone's home.

The stairs looked like they had been dug up from the Titanic and were about as stable. The atrium of the building was empty but for an inch of dust and some discarded rubbish (the residents use a different door). But I stood there, neck craning out of the carved windows that would once have seen men in sailor outfits, telescope in hand keeping an eye out for pirate ships (in my mind anyway).

It was the most haunting place I have experienced before or since. A little toy bunny wearing a tutu, abandoned in the corner and covered in dust brought forward images of the children who lived here. Did they know how amazing their home was to someone from the other side of the world? How was it that after all I'd seen that their home and its history has made such a lasting impression on me?

The tiredness and jet-lag didn't exactly drift away, it was more like an orbital sander scrubbed me down layer by layer.
Bangkok (or indeed any city) isn't all museums, temples and elephant rides.
Find somewhere no one else goes.
It will certainly be time well spent.