Kim and Bruce Sherry went on a journey to Thailand after they became empty nesters. One of their meals was rich, savory duck noodles at Hotel Clover Asoke's rooftop restaurant.
Kim and Bruce Sherry pose for a photo in front of the Golden Mount in Bangkok, where centuries of history rise around them.
A Thai hermit yogi, one of many figures scattered around Wat Pho, reflects ancient traditions of healing, discipline, and spiritual balance.
A stone lion stands watch in the heart of Lumphini Park. Blending Chinese symbolism and Thai serenity, it's a protector of peace, power, and prosperity
This is part 1 of 3 of a couple rediscovering each other after their children moved out.
Husband Bruce and I arrived in Bangkok from Alaska at 11:30 p.m., at the tail end of a 31-hour marriage stress test that doubled as our empty-nester adventure kickoff. Premium Plus on Delta did its best to help-blankets, slippers, toothbrushes, and surprisingly good vegetarian lasagna. Compression socks, it turns out, are part of the official midlife adventure uniform: deeply unsexy, but better than blood clots.
Customs moved quickly, the airport was easy to navigate, and Bruce slipped into his favorite role: chief navigator. When you are groggy and grumpy, having someone else manage logistics is wildly attractive. We ordered a Grab, Southeast Asia's answer to Uber, and after a shock of heat when stepping outside, that first blast of air-conditioning felt almost spiritual.
Hotel Clover Asoke, a small boutique hotel in the Sukhumvit district, welcomed us after midnight. We fell into our king bed with that satisfying "Holy cow, we made it!" feeling.
Parks, fried chicken, and dragons?
Jet lag woke us early, which is a secret travel advantage: You get the city before it gets cranky. We drank cappuccinos on the rooftop, watched Bangkok wake up, and planned our day: steps, snacks, and sightseeing.
Benjakitti Park, across from the hotel, is a calm green oasis wrapped around a lake, the kind of place where you can pretend your step count is about wellness-rather than justifying the future gorging of tasty Thai temptations. A skybridge floated us above the traffic to Lumphini Park, where we met Bangkok's unofficial mascots: enormous water monitor lizards.
"Bangkok dragons" slide through the water and sprawl on the banks like they own the place – several feet of prehistoric calm in the middle of a huge city. They're shy, so we watched from a distance, delighted that our midlife walk now included unexpected dragon-spotting.
As we wandered, we talked about future adventures instead of future tax returns, and it hit me how easy it is to forget what connected you to your partner in the first place. Wandering those parks felt like stepping out of to-do lists and into our marriage again.
By the time we left Lumphini, our stomachs were louder than the traffic. We headed to Polo Fried Chicken, a Michelin-recognized local favorite just outside the park. It's tucked down an alley that might make you question your life choices for a second. But the Michelin signs
and smiling staff convinced us to sit down and commit. We ordered fried chicken buried under a glorious heap of crispy garlic, papaya salad, and pork larb with vermicelli. This papaya salad was the best of the entire trip, and we ordered a LOT of papaya salad.
Golden Mount, Wat Pho, and temple cats
Next was Wat Saket, the Golden Mount, a hilltop Buddhist temple crowned by a gleaming golden chedi and reached by 344 small steps spiraling upward. It's more meditative stroll
than vertical death march, a great metaphor for midlife adventure – you don't need to sprint, just keep moving. Halfway up, we ducked into a tiny café for a salted caramel Thai milk tea and a flaky chocolate croissant, because nothing says romance like splitting pastry while sweating through your clothes in 90-degree heat. Bangkok in February is hot and humid, so slipping into air-conditioned coffee shops for icy drinks and small treats quickly became one of our marriage-survival strategies.
Temples in Thailand come with a dress code: shoulders and knees covered, shoes off at the entrance. There is something grounding about stepping barefoot into these quiet, sacred spaces together-moving slowly, whispering, remembering you're a guest in someone else's culture.
From there we headed to Wat Pho, home of the famous Reclining Buddha, a 138-foot-long gold-covered figure lounging peacefully on his side. The statue was stunning, the crowds less serene. Worth it? Absolutely. Relaxing? Not exactly.
The real magic for us was outside: shady gardens, sculptures demonstrating yoga poses, a misty pond, and-most important for the feline-obsessed daughters back home-temple cats. We began spotting and photographing as many as we could to send back to the girls. It was silly and sweet and reminded us that even when it's "just us" again, our kids are still woven into the stories we collect.
By late afternoon we were fading and called another Grab, which promptly introduced us to Bangkok traffic: chaos seasoned with more chaos. A 20-minute ride stretched into more than an hour as scooters threaded through gaps the width of rice noodles and cars tailgated like it was a competitive sport.
Once safely at the hotel, the idea of going back out for dinner felt impossible. So we headed upstairs to the hotel's rooftop restaurant and let someone bring dinner to us. We shared a fried wonton salad, Bruce ordered pad thai, and I chose a duck noodle dish that wonderfully wandered into ramen territory. We always share bites – turning every dinner into a tiny tasting menu for two feels like another way of saying, "We're in this together."
We ended the day with 12,309 steps and the smug satisfaction of believing that chocolate croissants, fried chicken, and tiny temple stairs all count toward wellness.
Reigniting "us"
In two days, bustling Bangkok gave us more than great food and impressive temples; it brought back our sense of being co-explorers instead of co-managers. We embraced micro-adventures as small daily rituals that reminded us that we're still fun together. We divided responsibilities instead of competing for control. He handled navigation and transit puzzles; I researched food and tours. It felt less like dividing chores and more like playing to our strengths, which somehow made us feel like teammates again.
Most of all, traveling as empty nesters to a place as vibrant and sensory as Bangkok helped us remember who we were before life revolved around school calendars and sports schedules. Through exploring a new city, trying unfamiliar dishes, and getting a little lost together, we found "us" again.
In the next two parts of this series, the Sherrys head to Chiang Mai and Koh Samui for more adventures.
Kim Sherry, mother of two daughters and a fourth-generation Alaskan who grew up in King Salmon, is a host on Alaska Public Radio program Hometown, Alaska. She loves to cook and appeared on the third season of 'The Great American Recipe' on PBS as the first contestant ever coming from Alaska. She also participated in the new culinary show "100 Cooks" on the Food Network and HBO. Kim is an artist who specializes in pet portraits, has written and illustrated two children's books, is an avid gardener, and loves to travel.
