To visitors, Yaowarat comes to life when the gold shops' tall windows go dark and neon signs burn bright on top of buildings. As night falls, the main street of Bangkok's Chinatown transforms into a lively canteen, buzzing with vendors and noise and cars. Tourists, sitting on plastic stools as they wait for their seafood dishes to be served, flood the pavements. Their overflow on the road causes drivers to manoeuvre their cars in stop-motion, honking at each other.
However, just a stone's throw away, the back-alleys of Yaowarat are pitch-black and empty.
"The back streets empty out at night because nobody really lives here anymore," says Somchai Kwangtongpanich, a born-and-bred Chinatown man now in his mid-50s.
Demographic changes and urban development have remodelled the face of Yaowarat altogether. Today, the neighbourhood that seems busy to visitors appears deserted, especially at night, in comparison with the one Somchai was born into.
"It went from densely populated to practically tenantless in just a few decades," he says.
In his youth, the narrow streets were filled with people. Residents gathered in front of their shophouses at dusk, chatting the night away as an escape from the confinement and overcrowding of their homes.
Then, 30 years ago, Bangkok's peripheral areas started to pick up. As owning a town house became a thing, many second-generation Chinese moved out of Yaowarat to start their own families elsewhere. They settled down in Pin Klao, Bang Chak, Bang Bua Thong and further out.
This generation was the first to become unhappy with the traditional lifestyle, as well as the lack of space in the inner city, Somchai explains. "When you grew up with five, 10 or 20 people in your home, you want to escape that."
Nowadays, their children move into condominiums, located next to public transportation lines.
From the 1980s onwards, a new wave of immigrants arrived in Thailand. These newcomers were from Mainland China and often had ties with the Chinese community already settled here.
"New" Chinese or the "flying Chinese" who travelled by air -- as opposed to those who reached Siam by boat over 100 years ago -- headed straight to Yaowarat to establish their businesses.
Their shops' walls, from floor to ceiling, are covered with shoes and other goods imported directly from China and which they retail at low prices. However, most of the newcomers do not live in Yaowarat. Every evening, they close their stores and return to their homes outside the area. Stroll through Sampeng's alleys after dark and you will hardly meet a soul.
"Notice how the houses are locked from the outside," Somchai adds, pointing to padlocks on the shop windows' blinds.
A glimmering light and crashing sounds come out from a shrine, where a man has chosen to screen movies as offerings to the gods after a stroke of luck. In a nearby salapao shop, the owners are still busy baking the buns ahead of the Chinese New Year.
Such night-time encounters are rare these days, according to Somchai, when a large proportion of Yaowarat's remaining inhabitants keep to themselves.
Another demographic shift is more obvious: Chinatown is not so Chinese these days. Somchai, who's a rope trader, estimates that around one in five workers in the area is a migrant, often undocumented.
In the past, Chinese businessmen employed men from their own community, then later, seasonal workers from Isan provinces. Today, migrants from neighbouring countries perform the toughest jobs.
When they first arrived, they were accommodated in their employers' house. However, at some point, claims of drugs use arose and many workers had to relocate to cheap, often rundown flats.
One such building stands, a towering presence over the shophouses, on Plaeng Nam Road. "Old" and "new" Chinese, as well as migrant workers, live behind the decrepit facades, above a murky market place.
For most outsiders, "Yaowarat" stretches out to Hua Lamphong station, but for purists like Somchai, the name only designates the main road and a few directly adjacent back alleys.
"The rest, including Charoen Krung Road, is simply Chinatown," he asserts.
The Charoen Chai community, situated just off Charoen Krung, is a small pocket of tradition in the middle of a rapidly evolving landscape. Most households are still inhabited by the descendants of old Chinese immigrants.
When the "new" Chinese settled in Yaowarat, they pushed out the original business owners, who couldn't compete, says Sirinee Urunanont, a member of the working committee for the conservation and rehabilitation of Charoen Chai.
The back alleys of Chinatown reveal a different picture from the hustle and bustle known to tourists. Photos: Thanarak Khunton
"Their imported goods are so cheap. We can't beat their prices," Sirinee, who owns a shop selling frames and photo albums, adds.
The Charoen Chai community survived thanks to the fact that most families sell products used in traditional Chinese rituals, such as customary wedding gowns, lucky charms and joss paper.
"You can't find these objects elsewhere in Bangkok," she says proudly.
However, Charoen Chai's future is under threat, with the city's plans to extend MRT lines to the area. Construction work for the Wat Mangkorn station began a couple of years ago, right on the community's doorstep.
Scaffolds now block access to their shops, causing business to plummet. A few days ahead of the Chinese New Year, the narrow alley is so packed that one can barely move. But when there aren't any festivities, it's almost as if the 80 households were disconnected from the busy Charoen Krung Road.
Whether the community will be allowed to remain in the area once the MRT line is completed is also uncertain and causes a great deal of worry among residents.
In 2008, shop owners' three-year rental contracts were not renewed. Nowadays, they only pay monthly rental fees.
"The land owners may chase us from our homes at their convenience, if they wish to develop the land plot."
Eight houses in Charoen Chai community have already been reclaimed for the Wat Mangkorn station construction.
Next to the core of Chinatown is the tranquil Talat Noi, on the bank of the Chao Phraya, a neighbourhood that also is experiencing the bittersweet effects of gentrification.
Once a junkyard for used automobile parts shipped from Japan, the area has become a hit destination for the nostalgic, camera-toting, iced-latte aficionados following the footsteps of "indie" bloggers.
Picturesque architecture, graffiti art and cool coffee shops are widely mentioned on social media threads -- often titled "The top 10 stops in Talat Noi". But little is said about the original Chinese residents' way of life, argues Nonlany Ungwiwatkul.
"When bicycle tours come in for instance, they will only visit touristy hot spots but won't stop at the market or contribute to the local economy," she adds, arguing that some community members have become wary of such behaviour.
The Talat Noi community has always been tightly knit but some divisions began to appear in the past year or so, when business owners saw new opportunities in catering to tourists or outsiders. Talat Noi experienced a facelift with boutique hotels popping up like mushrooms.
Still, very little durable change takes place, Nonlany says. Projects such as public parks or playgrounds for the community were proposed by conservationist teams but eventually failed, stirring frustration among the original residents.
In recent years, the Charoen Chai community found out that the Chumbhot-Pantip Foundation, which owns the land they live on, had co-founded a development company with the Crown Property Bureau.
It's unclear what kind of development will take place there, says Sirinee, but it will definitely alter the face of Chinatown even further.
Old buildings may be preserved, as it is the trend now, but replacing original businesses with chain-filled community malls will render these places soulless.
"At the end of the day, it's people that are the heart of this city."
