Bangkok Modern

Outside the café windows, jackhammers are tearing up the street for a new subway system modeled after Singapore's (it will have air-conditioned platforms), scheduled to open next year. Meanwhile, shiny, metered taxis honk their horns impatiently. I spot only the occasional three-wheeled exhaust-spewing tuk-tuk, long a favorite of tourists but now going the way of the dinosaurs. Overhead, the Skytrain, Bangkok's rapid transit system, glides by on elevated tracks. Open since 1999, the train runs on two lines and less than 20 miles of rails. A major expansion is in the works, but the system is already a godsend for tourists, covering most of the areas they're likely to visit. Even the Chatuchak Weekend Market, usually a daunting taxi ride, is just a few minutes' walk from a station. (The train has been less successful among residents: the middle class refuses to give up its cars, and many workers prefer the bus, which is slower but cheaper. Still, ridership increased by more than 30 percent last year, and the government is trying hard to woo additional passengers.)

Ironically, I find that the years of recession seem to have smoothed out the city's rough edges. When I first laid eyes on Bangkok, there were almost no tall buildings. Then, in the 1990's boom years, skyscrapers seemed to sprout up overnight. Now the skyline is filled with the ghostly shells of hundreds of unfinished building projects, gone bust mid-construction when the baht collapsed. Even without the Skytrain's impact, there are fewer cars on the roads (auto sales dropped by 75 percent in the two years following the economic crisis, and the price of gas doubled). Since most of the pollution came from construction dust and car exhaust, the air is visibly cleaner. The authorities have promised a crackdown in Patpong, that warren of street hawkers, raucous bars, and raunchy sex clubs, though it remains one of Thailand's biggest, and oddest, sightseeing attractions.

Despite the current "morality government," as it has been dubbed by the press, the Thai people's enviable dedication to sanuk (a good time) still defines the laid-back civic mood here. The zeitgeist is captured by the Thai expression mai pen rai, which translates loosely as "no worries." Even my careerist friends here seem to spend a shocking amount of time enjoying life. I suggest as much to Rungsima and her friend Sakul Intakul, a floral designer, when they come by the Sukhothai for a poolside lunch that stretches into late afternoon. I point out that it is, after all, a weekday. They protest, but only mildly. Sakul, whose work has been featured in Wallpaper magazine, is actually on the job, in a way: he creates the Sukhothai's celebrated floral arrangements, including the stunning multitiered "sculpture" in the lobby.

Over the past decade, the Sukhothai's graceful low-slung buildings, gardens, and lotus pools have been hemmed in by skyscrapers; its restaurant, Celadon, considered by many the best in town, has doubled in size. But it is still a fabulous place, more urban resort than hotel. The staff is good-looking, charming, and energetic. The public spaces and guest rooms all shimmer in Thai silk. My desk has a flat-screen computer with a high-speed Internet connection; the bathroom is big enough to get lost in. All the Sukhothai lacks is the riverside location of its main rivals for the carriage trade: the Peninsula, which opened four years ago, and the grande dame Oriental across the river.

Thais call their capital Krung Thep, or "City of Angels," and like Los Angeles, it's sprawling, smoggy, and steamy—temperatures average in the low 90's from March to May (the world's hottest city, according to the World Meteorological Organization). Unlike L.A., though, Bangkok has a definite center: the sinuous curve of the Chao Phraya river, which begins at Wat Phra Kaew and the Grand Palace, sweeps past Wat Arun, River City, and Chinatown, and ends at the Taksin Bridge. When I first came here, I spent almost all my time on or near the river. This trip, though, I'm always on the Skytrain, heading north from the river to either Siam Square or Sukhumvit, Bangkok's two most happening neighborhoods, for dining, shopping, and gawking.

And what a change I find. Fifteen years ago, Bangkok fashion was all rip-off American; in the 1990's, it was counterfeit Japanese. Now Thai designers are drawing inspiration from their own cultural heritage. Even the old-guard Jim Thompson silk company, best known for its high-quality, conservative neckties and scarves, has introduced a collection of bold, contemporary furniture and accessories in traditional materials—such as silk and teak—by the London-based Thai designer Ou Baholyodhin. Many creative enterprises are collaborations between Thais and expats, who bring an outsider's appreciation for the culture. One of the most popular spots for dinner in Bangkok these days is Le Café Siam, where French-born executive chef Xavier Lecourt's menu draws from both French and Thai traditions.