The night train to Chiang Mai

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I am young, the turn of the century is yet to come and corona is very far in the future. It's my first time in Thailand. That was on my to-do list. “Because”, said a fellow traveler in hippie paradise Goa during a trip through India: “the Land of Smiles is a world country.” With Joe Cummings' Lonely Planet Guide Thailand as a companion I backpack through the country.

I buy a ticket for the night train to Chiang Mai at Hualamphong Station and I make my travel plans in a cheap hostel near Khao San Road. The 'Night train to Chiang Mai' could just be the title of a thriller, I think. Sweltering Bangkok embraces early twilight as I take a tuk-tuk to the station. The 18.10 pm train is ready, I am well on time. By six o'clock I'm in my reserved seat and soaking up everything I see on the platforms. I naively take a glass of ice-cold orange juice with sugar from a friendly Thai who walks down the aisle. She carries a tray full of glasses that she hands to me and other foreigners in the compartment. Thai skips them. Ten minutes later she comes, equally radiant, to fetch sixty baht. Nice trick, I realize later.

Pearl of the North

The backpack is in the luggage rack, the shoulder bag leans against my legs and the money belt dangles behind my shirt on my sweaty stomach as the train chugs along at a leisurely pace. She makes her way past slums and dingy residential areas. The night train to the Pearl of the North, as Chiang Mai is called, is popular with backpackers. I go around the block and have a chat with fellow travelers. I buy beers from the boy with the ice bucket. At eight o'clock I order rice with vegetables and chicken that I eat at the folding table while a bottle of Chang beer shakes dangerously back and forth and experience intense satisfaction.

The cadence of the night train

It gets dark early in Thailand, so I don't see anything from about seven o'clock. There is therefore little more to experience. Above the rattle and squeak of the wheels, I hear a buzz and muffled laughter that slowly fade away. I have the bottom bunk. A steward in a white suit gestures to make my bed. I nod and with a few simple actions he conjures up an upper bunk and lower bunk. With rapid movements he finishes the job with a sheet, blanket and pillow. I settle down on the bed, the backpack slanted against the foot of the bed. I switch on the bedside lamp and read my book, rocking to the cadence of the train Soft as silk. Flexible as bamboo of Jon Hauser. Still recommended.

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My new girlfriend

Most passengers soon fall asleep and the walkway is completely deserted. The train gasps, squeaks, creaks and rumbles through the darkness. Sometimes you have to honk for a long time and the Rod Fai (literally translated fire truck) regularly stands still in the 'middle of nowhere'. My curtain is open. Darkness stares at me. A fragile lady who now sells the drinks walks down the aisle, hips swaying to the rhythm of the night train to Chiang Mai. After a second round, she comes to sit on the bed with the farang, who does not want to sleep, reads his book and wishes another cold beer. And yes, I'd like one for her too, she gestures with charm. I nod, her slender hand lifting a bottle from among the ice cubes. Unfortunately my Thai is not yet as good as my current coal Thai. The communication consists of hand and footwork and some stray words of English the Thai way. She wants to know if I'm married, if I have a girlfriend, where I live, how much I earn, what kind of work I do, if I like Thailand. And finally: I read in her dark eyes whether I like her too. One more, she asks softly. I thank her, settle the bill, say hello to her. I receive a wai from my new friend, who smiles her perfect teeth, and fall into a dreamless sleep.

Chiang Mai

A small whirring fan above my head gives the illusion of cooling. Around five o'clock in the morning I wake up sweaty, I waddle to the toilet, freshen up at a tap in the washroom. An hour later I order a cheese sandwich and coffee from the breakfast man who is standing in front of my bed early. Movement announces the dawn, curtains open, sleepy heads stick out, murmurs and morning noises. The white-suited steward inexorably clears everything up again, the sun climbs up and we approach Chiang Mai. With a delay we roll into the station at nine o'clock. Hangover, restless and an experience richer I step out of the carriage. At the exit is a mob of tuk tuk drivers who storm their potential customers like jackals. I think it's all fine. My adventure in Northern Thailand has begun.