I climbed into the back of a tuk-tuk and joined two older woman. The elder of the two smiled, giving me a close look at her lips, gums and upper teeth stained scarlet from betel nut. She pointed beneath my seat after I sat down. There was a pillow case filled with something squirming. When we dropped the woman off, I saw her put the bag on a scale. While it was trying to be balanced, the knot came loose sending slimy black river eels across the pavement. I was relieved to know the horrid smell in the tuk-tuk was not from me.
After another stop, I arrived at the hostel and was told that I had 20 minutes to go to the ticket office and return here in order to wait for the bus. I jogged to the office and hustled back with enough spare time to take an abbreviated shower in a sink. I caught my reflection in the mirror, it was the first time I had seen myself in a week.
We climbed aboard the bus and were on our way to the Thai border. As we shuffled through immigration, I witnessed, perhaps the most moronic traveler, present two passports to immigration. He was Israeli and wanted to switch to his French passport in order to travel into Malaysia (Malaysia is one of many Muslim countries that Israeli citizens or anyone with a Israeli stamp in their passport are prohibited from visiting). He was immediately detained by immigration, delaying our bus and our chances of reaching the train in Ubon Ratchathani.
We climbed aboard the bus and were on our way to the Thai border. As we shuffled through immigration, I witnessed, perhaps the most moronic traveler, present two passports to immigration. He was Israeli and wanted to switch to his French passport in order to travel into Malaysia (Malaysia is one of many Muslim countries that Israeli citizens or anyone with a Israeli stamp in their passport are prohibited from visiting). He was immediately detained by immigration, delaying our bus and our chances of reaching the train in Ubon Ratchathani.
As they unloaded his bag from the bus and gave it to a very worried girlfriend, the Israeli came running from the immigration office and bounded into the bus. He gave us an apologetic smile, though I could only think of that lovely yiddish word--schumck.
We reached Ubon Ratchathani with 45 minutes to spare. We made our way to a tuk-tuk who we found to be drunk halfway through the ride. The laugh of a drunk is unmistakable and his blubbery chuckle gave him away. He swung the steering wheel to and fro, sending us side to side. One of the girls I was traveling with told me she used to work in a penitentiary and explained how to debilitate him by pressing a certain spot below the ear. My hand lurched forward but I pulled it back after seeing a sign to the rail station.
At the ticket office, an employee had the duty(which I am sure he took pleasure in) of informing me that all the sleeper tickets were sold through. No worries, I thought to myself, until he explained that first class and second class seats were also sold through. "Third Class?" I asked. "Standing room only," he replied and I swear I saw the corners of his mouth inch upwards ever so slightly. This is, after all, the land of smiles.
Wanting to keep my promise of reaching to Bangkok in 20 hours, I convinced the other three that it wouldn't be that bad, though I would have gone by myself if they refused. If we boarded right away, we could get the few seats, by the toilets, they reserve for standees. They reluctantly said yes but I think the stingy backpacker in us couldn't pass up the 200 baht ticket ($5.81)
The first two hours were great. I was playing with, some might say traumatizing, the children. It was immediately clear that some had not been this close to a farong and they weren't sure how to behave. I would stick out my tongue or cross my eyes when their mothers were not looking. Some returned the gesture while others buried their faces into the seat. I offered them candy, like any good stranger should. My inner child was coming out. Having the advantage of being the strange farong, a perpetual goof, the parents just shrugged their shoulders, happy to have their children entertained for a bit.
Toting sweating buckets of beverages, hawkers would walk down the aisle every few minutes screaming their wares. A can of Chang, the local beer that boasts a head spinning 6.2% alcohol content, caught my eye and negotiations ensued. He had just sold a can for 45 baht to one of the Dutch girls and was insistent on charging the same price. He didn't know that I live in China.
We haggled, I shot up fingers, he shook his head no. Both of our voices raised until we were the spectacle of the cabin. I was talking nonsense as I knew he didn't understand me but he stood his ground and raised his voice to a frightening level. We were both beaming smiles as the haggling continued. Is this farang really going to get a cheaper price, the locals must have been thinking. I wasn't winning, but I would try one last trick.
I picked up the can and halved it with my hand. Pointing to the bottom of the can, I thumbed towards me. The top of the can, I indicated with my finger, goes to him. Laughter burst in the cabin, and finally, he accepted my lower price. With a straw, he took a long sip from the beer and then gave the rest to me. Afterwards, every time he passed, I would steal a can of beer. Once he got a few steps ahead I would shout at him, and he would turn around to see what the farang had stolen.
Heads dropped and necks snapped them back before hitting the floor. We were all dead tired. If you did not have a seat against the wall it was impossible to sleep. Children were sprawled on rice bags with their parents feet propped above. My sleep came in minute long fits before I too was jolted awake by my falling body. The only thing that easily fell asleep was my ass. Every thirty minutes or so, I would muster the courage to sit forward, sending liters of blood back into my haunches. I winced with pain. Had I not been so tired, I would have howled.
The glow of morning was a welcome relief, as it signaled we were only an hour away from downtown Bangkok. Parents shook their children awake and packed their belongings. Pulling into the station, I felt relief. I knew very shortly, I would be laying on a dorm bed, collecting my many hours of missed sleep.
At the ticket office, an employee had the duty(which I am sure he took pleasure in) of informing me that all the sleeper tickets were sold through. No worries, I thought to myself, until he explained that first class and second class seats were also sold through. "Third Class?" I asked. "Standing room only," he replied and I swear I saw the corners of his mouth inch upwards ever so slightly. This is, after all, the land of smiles.
Wanting to keep my promise of reaching to Bangkok in 20 hours, I convinced the other three that it wouldn't be that bad, though I would have gone by myself if they refused. If we boarded right away, we could get the few seats, by the toilets, they reserve for standees. They reluctantly said yes but I think the stingy backpacker in us couldn't pass up the 200 baht ticket ($5.81)
The first two hours were great. I was playing with, some might say traumatizing, the children. It was immediately clear that some had not been this close to a farong and they weren't sure how to behave. I would stick out my tongue or cross my eyes when their mothers were not looking. Some returned the gesture while others buried their faces into the seat. I offered them candy, like any good stranger should. My inner child was coming out. Having the advantage of being the strange farong, a perpetual goof, the parents just shrugged their shoulders, happy to have their children entertained for a bit.
Toting sweating buckets of beverages, hawkers would walk down the aisle every few minutes screaming their wares. A can of Chang, the local beer that boasts a head spinning 6.2% alcohol content, caught my eye and negotiations ensued. He had just sold a can for 45 baht to one of the Dutch girls and was insistent on charging the same price. He didn't know that I live in China.
We haggled, I shot up fingers, he shook his head no. Both of our voices raised until we were the spectacle of the cabin. I was talking nonsense as I knew he didn't understand me but he stood his ground and raised his voice to a frightening level. We were both beaming smiles as the haggling continued. Is this farang really going to get a cheaper price, the locals must have been thinking. I wasn't winning, but I would try one last trick.
I picked up the can and halved it with my hand. Pointing to the bottom of the can, I thumbed towards me. The top of the can, I indicated with my finger, goes to him. Laughter burst in the cabin, and finally, he accepted my lower price. With a straw, he took a long sip from the beer and then gave the rest to me. Afterwards, every time he passed, I would steal a can of beer. Once he got a few steps ahead I would shout at him, and he would turn around to see what the farang had stolen.
Heads dropped and necks snapped them back before hitting the floor. We were all dead tired. If you did not have a seat against the wall it was impossible to sleep. Children were sprawled on rice bags with their parents feet propped above. My sleep came in minute long fits before I too was jolted awake by my falling body. The only thing that easily fell asleep was my ass. Every thirty minutes or so, I would muster the courage to sit forward, sending liters of blood back into my haunches. I winced with pain. Had I not been so tired, I would have howled.
The glow of morning was a welcome relief, as it signaled we were only an hour away from downtown Bangkok. Parents shook their children awake and packed their belongings. Pulling into the station, I felt relief. I knew very shortly, I would be laying on a dorm bed, collecting my many hours of missed sleep.
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