I came through customs at Bangkok Airport (BKK) to screams of young girls hanging over a balcony area above and hoards of youngsters all around me taking photographs. It took me a while to work out who the beneficiary was. Certainly not me. This wasn't the type of crowd to appreciate the finer qualities of a dishevelled forty-something. I assume instead it was for the young men up ahead. Perhaps the latest South Korean pop sensation had arrived on tour.
The morning was dominated by the fact that I'd left my small bag of electrical accessories at security in New Delhi Airport yesterday. A fact that only became apparent to me when I got to the hotel in Bangkok just before midnight.
In addition to my electric toothbrush and beard trimmer, the bag also contained my Garmin watch and charger, and my Suunto charger, along with numerous other leads and adaptors. Not to mention two retired mobile phones.
I messaged Rowena in the early hours to see if there was anything she could do on her way through. She was getting up at 3.30 am to head to the same airport. We rarely seemed to be travelling together of late for whatever reason. Like the president and vice president, always on separate flights so that at least one of us would survive an international incident.
Meanwhile, I was about to take my first train of the year from Bangkok to Chiang Mai. After all the flying the previous year, I was feeling very guilty and wanted to try and make the switch from flying to slow travel this year, wherever possible. I knew it wouldn’t be easy given the life we’ve chosen, but where I could, I wanted to take trains and buses from now on. This mentality would later transform further of course to travelling by bike.
I tried to put my lost property problem to one side. I wanted to enjoy my first train experience of the 2020s. My first challenge was trying to work out if I was at the right train station. I couldn't deny that I was at Don Muang Station when the taxi driver pulled over at the side of the highway. It was indeed a train station and I could see DMK airport opposite. But it wasn't the same Don Muang Station as the one in my Google Maps, which we were only halfway towards.
I also think I was expecting something bigger and shinier for an airport railway station. This place looked like something you'd find in the Australian outback, but the size of something you'd find in the English countryside. I headed over to the ticket office to seek clarification, which was in the affirmative. Phew. The guard directed me to the parcel office behind the ticket office to collect my ticket. Obviously.
The parcel office was open, so I went inside. It was just a room with a desk in it and there was some evidence that somebody had been there recently. Some food in a plastic bag suggested it's occupant had arrived, carrying breakfast, but then maybe had to leave to get some chilli sauce or a bubble tea. I had an hour to spare, so I waited patiently.
He eventually returned with neither chilli sauce or bubble tea and issued me with my ticket. I went off to find food and to try and workout which platform I needed. Neither of these things proved easy. None of the food on offer at the various stalls was of the vegetarian variety. Welcome back to Thailand! Land of meat. You're not in Nepal or India anymore, Jon! I'd have to wait and hope there was something available on the train. I was starting to get hungry and it wasn't even 9 o'clock. A granola bar was not going to get me through a 10-hour train journey.
Working out which side of the station I needed to be on was a more pressing concern anyway. The first clue came by way of some signs pointing to, among others, Bangkok to the right (22 km) and Chiang Mai to the left (729 km). The Bangkok sign was on Platform 1, where I was now standing. The Chiang Mai sign was on the other side, on Platform 2. That seemed fairly self-explanatory. I picked up my bag and heaved it over the track to the other side.
No sooner had I rested my heavy bag down on stable ground, an American began shouting to his Thai wife down the platform that their train (which was also my train) was leaving from Platform 1, as per the very clear timetable painted on this big sign before him. Factually, he was 100% correct. Our train, train number 7, leaving at 09:13 for Chiang Mai, was indicated to be going from Platform 1, where I'd just been. But the disdain with which his Thai wife dismissed his loud proclamations spoke more loudly to me than his authoritative outburst.
Whist my money was now on the Thai wife and the signposts over the shouty American and the timetable, I had to admit that there was some evidence in favour of both options. I decided I better heave my bag back over to the other side and make sure.
Back on Platform 1, the first and most obvious member of staff to ask was the train guard who was sitting in a wooden enclosure, a bit like he was in the dock at The Old Bailey. He was quite old and I decided he might not speak English as well as the young man in the ticket office down the other end. I know this sounds ageist, but my experience in Thailand suggests that younger people spoke better English. Besides, I'd already conversed with the chap in the ticket office earlier who understood my question and delivered an answer that I eventually understood once I'd processed it a few times in my head.
In the time I'd taken to think all this through though, two people had gone over to the old guard and presumably asked the question I was contemplating. On both occasions he indicated Platform 2. The score was now Thai wife 4 - American husband 2. In fact the American husband only had the timetable to go off. Whereas the Thai wife probably just 'knew'; let's call it local knowledge. So the score was 4-1 really. I still went down the platform to ask my young friend in the ticket office just in case. He came down on the side of the Thai wife too. 5-1, final result. A win for Platform 2. Even the American husband had now sat down and accepted the result. What did the timetable know anyway? It was painted wood, so not the kind of thing you can update easily. I heaved my bag across the tracks a third time.
The train was due at 09:13, which came and went. The time that is, not the train. I'd been here well over an hour now and no trains had come through at all on either side. Was there a strike we hadn't been informed about? It was certainly surprising given that this is one of the main lines out of Bangkok; a railway line which forms the spine of the country. How many planes had taken off from the airport across the road in this same period?
At 09:25, a train finally arrived and I attempted to board. Fortunately the guard asked me where I was going and sent me away when I told him. This was not my train! I glanced across and noticed the American husband and Thai wife not attempting to board, so that assured me that the guard definitely knew what train he was in charge of.
Our train to Chiang Mai followed shortly afterwards. Throwing my bag up the steep steps onto the train was good exercise. I found my seat and worked out a way to store my bags in two gaps I spotted in the overhead storage. One of the things I love about train travel in foreign lands is trying to work out what is going on and what's going to happen next. My attention now quickly turned to where my source of refreshments was to come from.
The clue was dressed in black and pink and in the form of a female member of train staff. She was putting the final touches to a refreshments trolley and if I wasn't mistaken, it contained a tall silver pot. Might I be fortunate enough to get some free coffee and a snack? It turns out, yes I was!
A couple of hours later, the lady in pink came around with lunch. For free! Coming from the UK, I'm not used to this sort of service anymore. Can you imagine Virgin Trains handing out free food and drink throughout your trip from London to Edinburgh, as opposed to selling you crap sandwiches from a 'restaurant' on board? I felt like I was on an all inclusive holiday. The best part: it was only 11 am. This was my kind of train.
I was now looking at Chicken Massaman Curry, Jasmine rice and some salted sardines in a silver packet that made it look like space food. Choice was not a thing here. That would be a bit too much to hope for. It was free after all. I think the vegetarian option was just eating the rice. I suppose I could have just drained the curry using my fork and left the chicken, but I don't like waste and so I broke my vegetarian rules and ate the lot.
Inevitably, I eventually needed the toilet at the end of my carriage. Paying a visit delighted me. Firstly, because it's the only real reason I had for standing up, stretching my legs and hoping that some circulation would return to my backside. But also, the bathroom was the one place where the window was open and there was no air conditioning. The aircon on the train was just right. Not too strong, but still keeping the carriage nice and cool. It is nice to be reminded that it's 33C outside though and the smell of the countryside combined with the heat and humidity coming through the window was wonderful. Especially as it coincided with some green fields and a genuinely rural landscape.
I resisted the urge to stick my head out of the window like a dog in a car. The train was going far too fast and I didn't fancy risking decapitation by a tunnel or a passing train going the other way. This was not like the slow train ride we took in Myanmar last month.
For the next few hours Pink Lady did a remarkable job of furnishing any new passengers with food and water. Very impressive when you think that she had to remember who the new passengers were and where they'd sat, on more than one carriage, whist she went off to heat up food for them. From my perspective though, with each new delivery of food and drink, I'm thinking "surely this will push back when I get my next meal". I was hoping to be fed about every 3 hours; my usual rate of consumption. It had been 2-3 hours and whilst not hungry yet, I was thirsty and I'd run out of water completely!
For the first five or so hours of the trip the land was fairly flat and either agricultural or urban in composition. Pretty much what I expected from southern Thailand. Sadly, most of the time, the air was thick with smog and I saw some evidence of why when glancing out of the window. It's burning season and you could see crop-burning filling the air with smoke.
We then suddenly went from flat agricultural land to mountainous tree-covered terrain. What a difference! This is the northern Thailand that I'd become used to from my previous trips to Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai. The memories now came flooding back: Long runs in the hills; races through the jungle-filled mountains; snakes and ants; and sweltering humidity. I couldn’t wait to experience it again and just hoped that the air quality wouldn’t be too big an obstacle. I had a big race in Hong Kong due to kick off in around two more weeks and I'd been haunted by poor air quality so far this year in Kathmandu and Delhi. I desperately needed to get some training done in the mountains over the following week or so.
Around mid-afternoon Pink Lady made my day again, but this time I was faced with a dilemma. I was thirsty and she had bottles of soft drinks, full of E numbers, preservatives and artificial colours that made up an orange-coloured drink. Was I to ask for a plastic cup of this solution or was I to revert to type and order another coffee? I think the world is a better place without choice. I went for coffee of course. I'm a man of routine with vices that must be serviced and coffee is one of them.
With my coffee came an unknown pastry. It was like an Eccles Cake on the outside with what tasted like an almond paste on the inside. This gave it a baklava flavour. It was a kind of Salford-Istanbul combo, if you like.
As we headed into the late afternoon I was listening to World Turning by Fleetwood Mac and the late afternoon sun was combining with the fire smoke to great effect. Visually that is. Nothing great if you're outside breathing this air. Still over 100 km to go to Chiang Mai, I looked at Google Maps and the green we were yet to cross and I wondered what sunset would look like. Meanwhile, the music had switched to The Rolling Stones followed by Aretha Franklin. Life was good.
Sure enough, as dusk descended,, the sky turned orange. And the smoke became even more conspicuous. At first I thought it looked like how I imagined the aftermath of a nuclear explosion. Then my thoughts turned to the Australian bush fires that were raging at that time and I realised, this didn’t remind me of a dystopian future at all, but a world that exists right now across huge parts of Australia and the world.
The remaining train journey was uneventful. Pink Lady never returned. In fact, I think she must have disembarked some time ago. I continued to dehydrate, but soon forgot to notice. I kept my strength up on a diet of organic sesame Chikki bought in India. It's a brittle tasty snack of sesame seed and jaggery, which is a form of sugar. No wonder they taste so good. It's nutty and deliciously crunchy 'keeping the Chikki as pure as a grandma's hug' according to the packet.
I supplement this tasty snack with Jumbo Raisins and peanuts and dried peas covered in wasabi that we bought in Myanmar, but are in fact a Thai product. I was amused at the idea that I was repatriating these little snacks that we'd mixed together and were now largely just peas that blow your socks off when you throw a handful into your mouth!
With just over an hour to go, I looked out of the window and noticed that I recognised the station. We were at Khuntan. Rowena and I took a train here when we were based in Chiang Mai a few months earlier. Memories returned of that train ride which we shared with a mother and her young daughter who was eating silkworms soaked in soy sauce like kids back home would eat jelly babies. She was so angelic looking, but she was eating worms!
I finally arrived at Chiang Mai Railway Station ten hours, 15 mins after setting off from just outside Bangkok. I won't lie, it was a long journey and my back and buttocks felt it, but I’d enjoyed it. Next time I thought I'd maybe take a cushion and more water!
Stepping out into the station, it felt like coming home. My taxi driver kept pointing out temples and bars despite me telling him that I’d lived in Chiang Mai for 2 months already. He was proud of his city and had every right to be.
Train and bus travel were also my gateway drug to cycle touring. :) I love the long, slow, amble that allows you to just simply sit and watch the landscape slowly evolve outside. I have taken the Bangkok to Chiang Mai train twice - once as a night train, which I didn't enjoy nearly as much as the day train.
Did you retrieve your electronics bag on this trip?