Trains.

Hua Lamphong train station in Bangkok is about as big and busy as a train station can be, only more so. A huge hanger-like building, steaming hot, massively crowded with both passengers and residents - sure, some folk live there on the platform.

We were on our way to the islands in the south of Thailand, Koh Samui specifically. My lady-friend, Phen and I bustled and shoved our way through the crowds. With over 20 platforms I was glad I had Phen, a Thai person, with me to help find the right train. She had spoken to one of the platform masters who had informed her that the Surat Thani train - our train - was on platform 12.

So we pushed and shoved our way through the barrow-boys, trolley-pushers, arriving and departing passengers, platform-urchins (the residents of the station are mainly children), dogs, cats, piles of boxes. Hua Lamphong is an exercise in total chaos, but it sort of works. Sort of.

We made it down to platform 12, found the train, found carriage 5 - our carriage. Shoving our boxes and bags from the platform to the train via the windows we made it inside the carriage. Our seats, number 4 and 5 were occupied. I knew the people in those seats had made a mistake. Phen spoke to them, then turning to me said "this is the train to Chaing Mai, wrong train". "Ho hum" I replied.

I got back out, Phen passed our boxes and bags back out the window to me. Hmmm, where was that platform master now? We went back and Phen checked the departure notices. Our train was listed as being on platform 3. We walked down that way and shortly could see that there was, in fact, no train sitting on platform 3.

One of the station attendants walked over to the departure notices. We saw him put up some new notices. Phen said "there it is, he just put up a notice that says the Surat Thani train leaves from platform 16". "Ho hum" said I.

So with boxes and bags in hand we walked back up to platform 16 and sure enough, there’s a train sitting there. OK, looked like now we were in business. We found carriage 5 and lo and behold, seats 4 and 5 unoccupied. Back into the box in the window routine and we were in and settled. So we thought.

I went back out onto the platform searching for food and drink, of which there is an abundance at Hua Lamphong. Vendors with everything from "rat on a stick" to Bar-B-Q’d chicken and hamburgers could be seen vending their wares. Other vendors carried buckets of ice with bottles of whisky, beer and soft drinks inside.

Knowing already that the food on the train was both ridiculously expensive and utterly foul to eat I stocked up on enough to get us through the night’s journey. We’d leave in about an hour at 7 PM and arrive in Surat Thani at about 6 AM the next day. I could hear many "important" announcements being made in the usual train-station-style gibberish common to almost all stations around the world. A muffled mumbling of some obviously critical information which I could not have understood had I even been fluent in Thai.

I struggled back along the station to platform 16 only to find Phen sitting on the platform on our boxes. "What’s up?" I asked her. "That announcement, I could not understand it but a minute later the station guy came on the train and told us all that this train is canceled". "Canceled? What, forever or just for a while?". "Um, forever I think" replied my faithful partner. "No, just joking, they changed trains, we have to wait for this one to go and another to come in and that’s our train" said Phen.

So we sat with the other several thousand confused people waiting for trains that I think we all suspected did not really exist. This is the normal procedure at Hua Lamphong. But I’d been on the trains before and found them both inexpensive and entertaining.

Every station you stop at along the way is a circus of food vendors, locals hanging out for some entertainment, dogs, cats, the usual Thai railway station ensembles. People get on and off the train between stations with buckets of ice full of beer and whisky, others with fried chicken legs and sticky rice. Every time I run the trains I end up meeting other travelers, usually Thais, almost always equipped with a bottle of Sang Thip or Mekhong - Thai whisky (did I say whisky? I meant rocket fuel). Inevitably these meetings result in a shocking hangover the next day as I know, I must always do my part in helping them dispose of their bottles of foul liquids.

This time Phen had asked me not to entertain such pastimes. I’d agreed. Besides, I’d thought that maybe it would be a change to get off the train at the other end without a head that feels like it was hit by a sledge-hammer. So we sat. And sat. And then sat some more. It was 8 PM now and an hour after departure time. Phen had begun to look worried. I just said "don’t worry, we can sit here all night and get the morning train", Phen did not look like my comment had amused her at all.

Then with a loud screeching and clanging of iron one of the oldest trains I’d seen running came in and crunched to a halt on our platform. Total pandemonium broke out as the assembled hoards clambered, climbed, bashed, shoved and pushed their way onto the train.

Phen and I simply sat and waited, the smart people that we are. Then as we sat and before everybody had finished getting on board - the goddamned train started to move out. "Oh shit" I said. "Oh fuck" said Phen. We scurried and bullied our way through the crowds. "Get on the train Phen, I’ll run along side and pass up the boxes and stuff" I yelled. "OK" Phen yelled back.

I ran back and grabbed one bag and two boxes and saw Phen’s head emerge from a nearby moving window. The train was not moving fast but time was running out. I got to the window, passed up the stuff and ran back for the next lot. Now the train was about 100 meters past where we had the boxes. I had to run much faster this time. I made it to the window and Phen took the next installation of boxes.

Now the train was picking up and I ran like hell back to our boxes, yelling back over my shoulder "stay there honey, I’ll get the rest of the stuff and jump on the end of the train… see you in a minute". I could see Phen was wearing an expression of concern, worried that I’d not make it back on. I got to the boxes and grabbed the last two and a bag that remained.

Moving quickly now I ran through the crowd yelling at the top of my voice to an audience who did not understand a word I said - "comin’ thru, clear the way, comin’ thru!" I made it. Throwing the boxes and the bag up onto the little platform on the end of the last carriage I caught the side-rail in my hand and swung up onto the train. The crowd behind me on the platform was now clapping madly and laughing. It was infectious and between my gasping for air and laughing with them I damned near fell over backwards off the train.

A young urchin had begun running along next to me for his personal entertainment.. As I almost fell backward, he reached up and pushed me in the back and I regained my balance. He was still running along side, grinning idiotically. I reached into my pocket and found a bunch of coins. His grin widened into a full-tilt smile as I threw him a couple of ten baht coins. He was happy, I was on board and we were underway.

Balancing my boxes on my hips I made my way through the narrow passageway, down almost the entire length of the train to our carriage, number 5 of about 45. There was Phen, staking out our turf. We looked at each other and both burst into laughter. "I was watching all of that, you looked so funny running with those boxes" said Phen. "Hmmm, erm, hee heee" I replied like an idiot.

"Put the boxes up on the shelf there and sit down, relax. I’ll fix you some chicken and sticky rice to eat and you have a couple of cold beers here too" she said. "Mmmmm, grunt, mumble" I replied as I put the boxes up onto the rack.

The seats on the night train to Surat Thani are set out 2 on each side of a small table. At night the table drops to the floor and the 2 seats drop to make one bed. Then a panel in the wall above drops down and another bed folds out. The lower bunk has the window, the top bunk is a rice-steamer. When I travel with Phen, the true gentleman that I am, I always take the top bunk.

I sat down on the seat opposite Phen and we both breathed a sigh of relief. I looked around for the usual Thai gentlemen with their bottles of rocket fuel. They were, of course, sitting there and smiling at me invitingly. I looked back at Phen who’d spotted my action and was frowning deeply. "Don’t worry honey, I’ll stay off the turps tonight", "good" replied Phen, "very good, you do that, OK?". "OK" I replied.

We were rolling through the outskirts of Bangkok now. The sides of the track were crowded with packing-case shanty towns. Little alley-ways threaded their way between ramshackle makeshift buildings. People and food everywhere, the smells coming in the windows varying between tasty, alien, tempting and foul. The train slowed as it came into a station.

With the train pulling to a halt I jumped out our window to stretch my legs, the passageway being crowded already with food vendors and passengers. The station was crowded and busy as are all railway stations in Thailand. The stations often become something of a social gathering place with many locals coming along just for some food, drink and fun. Other people flocked along the side of the tracks, sitting and talking, catching the wind from the passing trains.

The train began to pull out slowly and I walked along side for a while then ran up ahead to a doorway and jumped back up. I sat on the doorstep and watched as the scenery slowly changed from shanty town to rice paddy. It was dark now, but the moon was full. A cool wind blew as the train moved along, the rice paddy stretching into the distance in the moonlight, with little thatched bamboo farmers huts here and there lit up with kerosene lamps.

The wind carried the smell of the paddy - a strange smell - a smell of simultaneous growth and decay. The timeless cycle of the land. Phen walked up behind me saying "one old man back there, he’s watching our stuff. I have the money and papers with me here. I come to sit with you now, OK?". "OK, excellent" I said as I moved over a little to make room for Phen to sit on the doorstep with me.

"It’s pretty isn’t it?" said Phen as she dug into her bag and passed me another beer, not so cold this time. "Sure is pretty" I replied as I accepted the beer from her. Opening the tin I drank deeply even though it was luke-warm. The train slowed as some water buffalo trundled across the tracks up ahead.

As we moved on we passed the old farmer with his beasts. His face was one of the land, I could see him well in the lights from the train windows, brown and wrinkled with an appearance of wisdom beyond simple knowledge. He saw me and grinned broadly displaying broken, black teeth. Maybe a betel nut chewer. His beasts grunted at me as we passed, I could smell their manure - a smell that always reminds me of my childhood on my uncles dairy farm.

The train rocked side to side as it passed along the paddies, the rhythm of the tracks and wheels sending me into a very relaxed state. We just sat and watched the countryside pass by - the way we always do on the train. Speaking very little, sitting very quietly, just watching the paddy change back to township and then back to paddy again. Small rocky mountains appeared in the moonlit distance.

The train slowed again and for reasons unknown we stopped right in the middle of a large bridge over a river. The banks of the river were lined with live-in river boats, rice barges and river-bank-side cafes. The cafes and boats were all lit up. Small catwalks joined the cafes, the shore and the boats into a makeshift town.

The scene was beautiful and Phen and I agreed that one day it would be nice to own a river boat and live in it. Maybe a little café on the bank of a river some place, and a river boat to moor to the jetty on the café. The train began to move again and the scene once more changed.

We passed through a couple of industrial areas, mining towns of some kind by the looks of them. Puffs of grimy dust sprang up from the tracks as the train passed over them and the dust blew into our faces as we sat on the doorstep. We stood up and moved back into our seats. On the seat opposite 2 Thai gentlemen had finished off one large bottle of Sang Thip already and were well into their second.

They sat singing songs to each other. Songs from up north, farmers songs. They were dressed in jeans and plaid shirts with cowboy boots, probably from Esan in the north-east. Esan people get right into the "cowboy thing". Again they smiled at me and gestured for me to join them. I smiled back and apologized to them in Thai, explaining that I had many things to do in the morning and did not want to be sporting a hangover.

They laughed, gesturing again and saying "mai pen lai" (never mind, don’t worry). Again I thanked them but declined their generous offer. These were not rich people but happy to share their bottle of whisky with a stranger. There are a lot of people like this in Thailand, openly friendly and generous. You just have to open your eyes completely to see this.

Phen and I sat back, the windows open, the wind blowing into our faces. It was late now and one of the guards was coming along, letting down the top bunk and placing curtains over both upper and lower bunks. Phen and I moved some of our bags out of the way and he came and setup our beds.

I washed down a full liter of cold water as I waited for him to finish. He pulled out a notebook and asked us if we wanted to order breakfast. I indicated our bags of food and said "mai pen lai" to him. He grunted something unintelligible, looked utterly shattered that I’d not ordered any of his greasy food, and wandered off to do his bed and curtain and "order food now please" routine elsewhere. Phen and I sat back down on the lower bunk for a while, then I kissed her lightly and climbed up to the top bank. Laying back it was not so hot as I had feared. I closed my eyes and let the rhythm of the tracks rock me to sleep as it always does.

I woke early, it had begun to get hot even at 5 AM so I got up and went to what is termed "the bathroom"; a tin box with a wall and door, nothing less nothing more and stinking like a dunny in a bush pub. There was a hose attached to the wall, the shower head long since fallen off. Pulling off my clothes I hung them on a nail on the wall, a plastic bag I’d brought contained clean shorts and T-shirt.

The walls were made of tin sheet as was the floor but the water still provided some degree of relief from the early morning heat and steam. I opened the window and found that I was, in fact, in a very beautiful bathroom. The green paddy rushed by and the wind rushed in. Upon finishing my mornings ablutions and leaving the tin-box-come-bathroom, I found Phen waiting outside for her turn. I went back to our seat and watched some unsuspecting passengers trying to eat what the Thai railways term "breakfast".

It looked like last weeks fried eggs along side last months slice of ham topped off with a dry and wrinkled slice of what appeared to be some kind of tomato. Happily I dug into my bag of food and brought out a section of bamboo containing sticky rice with honey and coconut; this is a great favorite Thai traveling food that keeps for days on end inside the bamboo section.

Sitting back I enjoyed my breakfast of sweet sticky rice. Phen wandered back up to our seat, the guard was coming back along the isles now, putting the beds and curtains back up. We got up for a moment as he did his job on our bunks and pulled the table back up and put it into position for us. We both sat down again and proceeded with our breakfast.

The sun was well up now and we could see that the train track was running not too far from the sea now. We could smell the ocean, the seaweed and fish. Large inland prawn ponds began to appear with their attendants already at their days work tending the small crustaceans. Behind the prawn ponds the ever-present rice paddy and beyond them the weird, jutting rocky mountains and outcrops common in southern Thailand.

More stations and more frenetic activity, we were almost there at Surat Thani, our semi-final destination. From Surat we would catch a bus, traveling some 70 kilometers up the coast to the ferry terminal to get the boat out to Koh Samui.

There are three ways to get out to the islands; the tourist ferries or "express boats" - suicidally neglected vessels guaranteed to scare the living shit out of you if not simply kill you by capsizing. Next choice is the very expensive option of hiring a private boat. Expensive and often, like the express boat, suicidal. We opted as always for the RORO. A large Roll On Roll Off vehicle ferry. Huge boats, well maintained, spacious and safe. If you go to the islands - insist on the car ferry, stay away from the tourist express boats unless you really like swimming a long way.

The train rolled into Surat and we went through a reverse process of throwing our bags and boxes back out the window, of course with the train starting to pull out already even though half of the passengers were still trying to unload their gear. Such is life on the trains in Thailand. We found our bus, loaded our gear and relaxed in the air-conditioned comfort as we covered the 70 odd kilometers to the ferry boat.

I felt relieved that, for once, I had managed a train trip in Thailand without getting up in the morning with a killer hangover. Phen was impressed by this fact as well and told me so. With all it’s hassles, I still find train travel in Thailand to be one of the most interesting and amusing, not to mention inexpensive, ways to get from A to B. I sat back in my bus seat, adjusted the air-conditioner and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the relaxing day on the beach with my lovely lady that was coming my way. If you come to Thailand - try the trains at least once.

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