Weekend Escapes Part 3: Koh Kret
In Thai, there’s a phrase: “อิ่มใจ” (imm jai) — a full heart.
One of my absolute favorite excursions outside of Bangkok has been to Koh Kret, just north of the city in Nonthaburi. With our Thai family living in Bang Sue, right along the Bangkok–Nonthaburi border, the ferry pier is only a short ride away — close enough to feel easy, far enough to feel like a worthwhile departure.
I like to think of Koh Kret as Bangkok’s very own Roosevelt Island, Governor’s Island, or Staten Island in NYC terms — a small, self-contained world just off the urban mainland. It’s an island market community made for wandering, by bike or on foot. The narrow island walkways feel a bit like a funhouse with twists and turns into different vendors and pottery stalls, and a slight unsteadiness as the tides shift beneath your feet.
While balancing SINE teaching life in Bangkok, Koh Kret feels like a gentle reset. It’s by no means a dramatic escape, but it showcases a unique slice of local culture. It’s accessible, affordable, and beautifully unpretentious.
The island is especially known for its Mon-style unglazed terracotta pottery — earthy reds, carved geometric patterns, forms that feel ancient yet entirely usable. The Mon community settled here centuries ago after migrating from what is now Myanmar, and their influence still shapes the island’s aesthetic, cuisine, and cadence of speech.
The ferry docks near Wat Poramaiyikawat Worawihan, marked by the island’s most recognizable landmark: the leaning white chedi, Phra Chedi Mutao. Built during the Ayutthaya period and later restored under King Rama V, the chedi tilts toward the river, its foundation slowly claimed by shifting soil and persistent current.
Like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, it wasn’t designed to lean. But its tilt, fragile yet enduring, is what gives it character. Sacred, imperfect, resilient.
Beyond the main paths, friendly dogs nap in pockets of shade. Cats weave between tables. Older men sit beside trays of religious amulets. Laughter drifts out from stilted homes where neighbors share bottles of Chang and stories from the week. It feels lived-in rather than staged — an island that belongs first to its residents, and only second to its visitors.
Like so many island communities — Provincetown, Martha’s Vineyard, Block Island, Fire Island — Koh Kret is in constant negotiation with water. The Chao Phraya River slowly erodes its edges. With time, the soil beneath the chedi has shifted, pulling it closer toward the current.
Like so many island communities — Provincetown, Martha’s Vineyard, Block Island, Fire Island — Koh Kret is in constant negotiation with water. The Chao Phraya River slowly erodes its edges. With time, the soil beneath the chedi has shifted, pulling it closer toward the current.
Perhaps the most fascinating part of visiting Koh Kret is that your time there is very literally defined by the tide. As afternoon drifted toward evening, certain walkways began to close off. Water crept up through familiar paths. Shopkeepers calmly sealed their ground-floor storefronts and retreated upstairs, business as usual. The island doesn’t fight the river — it adjusts to it.
As we boarded the ferry back to the mainland — a short 10–15 minute ride — we watched the island seemingly float away into the river wind and rising water.
In Thai, there’s a phrase: “อิ่มใจ” (imm jai) — a full heart.
Koh Kret doesn’t overwhelm you. It gently fills you.
And then, like a krathong on the tide, it lets you go.
–
Thank you to Teacher Colin for this blog.