Leaving Bangkok and Heading North by Train.

My son's family about to catch the same train but 6 weeks later.

So, at 9 o'clock in the morning, I found myself inside the main railway station of Bangkok. Its size didn't really go with the city: it reminded me of the railway stations in cities like Exeter or Valence except that it was a terminal. It reflected the minor part that rail traffic plays in the Thai economy these days with air traffic being a more popular mode of transport for those who can afford it. My platform was hardly crowded by European standards and most of the waiting people were Thais. I was chatting to an elderly Chinese lady when our train backed into the platform and she pulled me to my feet when some music started which was apparently the Royal anthem: they all love their King and the royal family in general.

Bangkok, the Royal Palace.

With the help of a female attendant, I rapidly found my reserved seat which was comfortable enough and next to a window as I had asked. Before we had even left the station, the female attendant brought us round a bottle of cold water each and a little pack of snacks, sort of sweet little cakes and biscuits. I had already bought myself a chicken salad sandwich, or rather baguette, so I was fine for a journey of five hours. I was pleased that there was no one sat next to me so I could concentrate on looking out of the window and taking some photos. The journey was less than 250 miles though, despite the train’s name, it was hardly a TGV.

We crawled out through the suburbs which reflected how the city was developing, a mixture of existing skyscrapers and ones being built, interspersed with some crumbling old buildings and small shanty villages, particularly alongside the tracks and under concrete bridges being built for future motorways. And, as was to be seen throughout Southeast Asia, there were plenty of outdoor roadside eating places where food was cooked in front of the customers who then ate either squatting or sitting on small plastic chairs in front of plastic tables. Squatting is a position we seem to have lost yet everyone in Asia seems to do it comfortably for long periods.

Typical rice paddies.

When finally the suburbs were behind us, we entered a never-ending plain of rice fields or paddies that stretched as far as the eye could see, with small villages set in the middle of them. Irrigation channels ran in all directions ensuring that there was plenty of water for the crop when needed. It seemed obvious that, here, rice was not exactly a seasonal crop as some fields were being prepared for sowing, others had the plants pushing up through the water, others were being harvested, others were being grazed by buffalo and others being burned off ready for the next cycle. Small herds of cows and occasionally goats were watched as they grazed the edges of the fields, particularly next to the actual railway line.

This scenery, although fascinating to begin with, soon became rather tedious, so any sort of variation would catch my interest. We would stop at small stations in small towns where a few people would get on and off but there would be a lot of people just hanging around, the arrival of a train being a big event one supposed. One town was particularly interesting because for the first time I saw quite a few monkeys hanging around, jumping up and down from trees and making quick raids on any rubbish lying around. I later heard this town was famous for its temple monkeys,

Monkey on the support of an advertising hoarding.

monkeys were tolerated because of their connection with the Temple: unfortunately, I was to realise that wildlife did not abound in Southeast Asia, at least not outside of the deepest and densest forests. However, in this region, there were plenty of water birds, herons and egrets, which were feeding themselves wherever there were fields covered in water. There were great flocks of these which would take to the air in fear as the train went past. Trying to photograph these was rather difficult from the train. In fact, as I soon realised, taking photos using my iPad mini, was only really good  for scenery or stationary people.

So I was quite glad when we pulled into the station at Phitsanulok, the small but ancient city where I had decided to break journey. I walked out of the station, about as big as the one where I live, a two platform job, and was hit by the early afternoon heat. In the small square in front of the station there was an old steam engine, perhaps a monument to the days when the trains had more importance. Still, I had wanted to be in a place that was not a tourist destination, and it seemed that I had made a good choice; there were no other white foreigners in sight. I knew my hotel was in front of the river on the other bank and less than 2 km away and I quickly engaged a tuktuk driver who asked for the equivalent of one euro for the trip. This was more like the Thailand I had come to see and I intended to wander round town the next morning while waiting for my 2 o'clock train.

My hotel turned out to be a modern concrete establishment of quite some size next to some buildings which seemed to be part of a University. I was quite surprised to see no smoking signs even on the driveway which was home to a small pack of dogs. I went up the marble steps and was confronted by a reception desk manned by five young ladies none of whom seemed to have a reasonable command of English. Having filled in the usual form and surrendered my passport, as a guarantee for services I had to pay for or any damage I might commit, a custom in all hotels here, I

 A shopping street (for Thais).

tried to find out where I could smoke and whether I could eat. After a lot of chat between them, I finally got the idea that I could smoke anywhere outside and that the restaurant was open. So, there being no porter, I carried my bags up to my room which was more than adequate, and set off to find the restaurant which seemed fully staffed but in which I was the only client. The menu contained only Thai dishes which the young waiter could not explain to me so I chose the typical Pad Thai soup with a bottle of beer and ate my way through it whilst reading the autobiography of Johnny Rotten/Lydon, hunting out any big, red pieces of chilli.

It wasn't a particularly good meal but only cost €1.5 so I couldn't complain. I returned to my room for a quick shower and then decided to walk by the river as it was getting late and night falls at six. It seemed to me that this old town was decidedly 20th-century looking and I later read that the old town was largely destroyed in a huge fire back in the 50s. So it was mainly white concrete modernity that I could see the other side of the river. There seemed to be some sort of running race going on, as people on the wide pavement in front of the river, kept running past me with numbers attached to their T-shirts, people of all ages, shapes and sizes. I later discovered that this was a charity event that happened every year. The river was wide enough to have fishing boats on it and the town on both sides was built well above as the river got a lot deeper during the rainy season - I had chosen this time of the year in order to avoid the torrential downpours that happen then.

Then, as dusk started to arrive, so did two other phenomena. Firstly, loads of Swallow-type birds appeared, feeding on the swarms of insects that suddenly appeared and reminded me not to go out at night without covering myself with mosquito spray. Secondly, young people started appearing, in couples and small groups, mainly accompanied by scooters and mopeds and all with smart phones attached to their ears.

As I would see throughout Southeast Asia, these are the two essentials of life for the young and the not so young. Most people here stared at me for more than a polite time, an obvious sign that they were not used to seeing white tourists and no one wanted to engage with me. The only person who did was another white tourist, a New Zealander, who seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see him. He didn't stop for long as he was doing the ‘run’, from the old town to one bridge then along the river on the other bank to the other bridge, the bridges being just over a kilometre apart.

It was dark by now so I returned to my room to check my emails and to think about where to eat. I wanted somewhere where I could sit outside and watch the world go by with a cigarette and a drink and then have a reasonable meal. Opposite the end of the bridge I had noticed a sort of High Street, lined with all sorts of businesses, where I thought there must be some eateries, so I went to investigate there but found nothing so I ended up on the terrace of another smart hotel about 400 m from mine and where there were three white guys and a Thai smoking and drinking on the terrace. I quickly learned that they were resident in the hotel and that they were gays of the more flamboyant variety. So I kept my distance from them and got served with some disdain by the very smart Maitre d’ who also sent a waitress with the menu I requested.

The food was pretty good. I ate indoors, as that was obviously necessary, and watched the behaviour of a large party of smart, middle-class Thais and the musicians providing them with entertainment. Popular music in South East Asia tends to be Western-based of a sugary nature. The keyboard player and lady singer were obviously talented but this all fell apart when the singer was replaced by various people from the large group: it was karaoke time. Karaoke is just so big in Asia, but for me, something to be avoided because the songs all sound like Eurovision and the singers tend to sing out of tune. I wanted more connection with Thai life and I was getting it!

So I returned to my hotel quite ready for bed and when I was all done I opened my bedroom window to lean out for a last cigarette and to my surprise found I had a neighbour. It was what looked like a barn owl and seem to have its nest in the angle between the roof support and the roof itself about 5 m from me and slightly above me. We watched each other for quite a while, it showed no fear of me and I tried to take photos of it and it was too dark and I thought if I used my flash he would fly away. But it was a pleasant and unexpected end to my day.

Bangkok temple by night.

In the morning, when I got to the restaurant for breakfast, I was surprised to find it full to bursting with Thais. I was the only foreigner and I realised that this hotel was probably aimed at Thai tourists. This was borne out by the breakfast buffet which was mainly rice and noodles dishes which I would happily eat for lunch but not for breakfast. What made me hurry through my toast and coffee was what was playing loudly on the two large flatscreen TVs; it was a phenomenon I had seen when I ate with my friends in the Thai restaurant in Bangkok. Thais love their soaps and here was one being shown at loud volume during breakfast. Not for me, no thanks.

I returned to my room to pack, went down to reception and asked them to order me a taxi to town. Two euros by taxi and 10 centimes to leave my luggage in left luggage. I wandered around the centre of the town until the heat got to me for the first time really, having the chance to look at Thai shops aimed at ordinary people rather than tourists. Most of the shops were all the same size, quite small, and opened out completely on to the street with the owner or their worker (unlikely) sitting on a chair as near to the front as possible without being in the sun, usually busy on the smart phone or tablet, totally unperturbed by the lack of clients. Then, it was quite normal to find several shops of the same variety right next to each other, a feature I was noticing even more in bigger cities later on. And finally, it seemed to me that more expensive items, particularly imported products, were near enough the same price as back home and therefore beyond the reach of the average Thai.

I returned to the station to get some shade and a very cold drink and found a sort of portable bar along the platform where an English guy and his teenage daughter sat smoking beneath the no smoking sign and drinking beers. I ordered an icecold Zero Coke and joined them. He was a regular in Thailand and it was his daughter’s first visit and he complained that all she wanted to do was to go south to some resort with full moon parties etc. But he was determined that she see some ordinary Thai life first. He said that the majority of younger European tourists behaved very badly, and did things they would not do at home. He wondered what local people thought about such behaviour and what a bad impression it must make on them. These were thoughts I would remember when I saw such examples of loutish behaviour later on my trip.