Payday!

Thur 2 Jan 2014

We checked out of our lovely Bangkok hotel and headed directly to the train station with our bags. We were making the trip on a hope and a prayer, not only that there would be some kind of luggage storage for us to leave our heavy packs in, but also that there would be trains to the south. We couldn't book online, and all the research we'd done said the odds were stacked against us to get a ticket on the day of travel.

At the station, a very helpful young man, who neither wanted to cheat us nor gain commission from our business, gave us some options.

1. Book tickets ourselves with the booth.
2. Speak to the travel agents upstairs who'd book everything for you, at a premium.

After speaking with the ticket office, they only had one bed available for the 19:30 train, but the earlier train had several beds free, though it would arrive at 4:30 am and have a long wait for the ferry to Koh Samui.

The travel agent had no reserved tickets for the 19:30 train either but did tell us there were seats available and gave us a heavily inflated price. Both having clocked an opportunity, we thanked the travel agent and headed back to the counter to reserve two seats ourselves at the standard price. When asked what class we wanted, we thought third class in Thailand would be a doddle compared to India.

"Yeah, we'll take the cheapest tickets you have. Thanks," we said smugly.

We had gained bargain-basement travel all the way to Koh Samui island with a special combined ticket and had been pointed in the direction of the luggage storage. Mission 100% successful. Now it was time to celebrate.

With the big bulging toe blister now engulfing the majority of my foot, walking was a major hassle, and taxis would be an inevitable part of our day if we wanted to leave the station. Luckily, we'd discovered that taxis were cheaper than the sky train and tuk-tuks, so they wouldn't leave a huge dent in our diminishing budget.

A metered cab was waiting outside the station, so we clambered in, checking the meter was going to be switched on, and headed to the centre for backpackers in Bangkok—Th Khao San.

Virgin backpacker paradise greeted us with knockoff clobber, fake licences for everything and anything, and bars galore. We headed for a pharmacy to get my throbbing foot checked. The advice was simple: pop it, iodine it, cover it. We bought all the necessaries to perform the op, and in a fairly sanitary bathroom, I did the deed. Instant relief washed over me, and the pain went immediately.

Two large Changs were sank in celebration, and we drunkenly wandered Khao San and found a pad Thai street vendor to nourish ourselves.

Whilst waiting for our noodle snack to be cooked up, an American couple joined us. In their mid-50s, this couple had embarked on a two-week whistle-stop tour of Vietnam, Cambodia, and Thailand. I don't know how it’s remotely possible to see even one of these countries in such a small window, but they were happy with their trip. Their son (who was obviously well-travelled, and the father said he wanted to be re-incarnated as in his next life) had told them they had to get a pad Thai whilst in Thailand. A mission the previous night to get the infamous Thai dish in Chinatown had been unsurprisingly fruitless.

After the whirlwind lunch of non-stop American chatter, a quiet massage was well and truly in order. Jamie opted for a 30-minute foot massage, and I went for a back, neck, and shoulder massage (not wanting anyone anywhere near my gammy foot). Jamie looked relaxed and calm whilst I was getting pulled and prodded with immense pressure in traditional Thai style.

We hit another bar and were all of a sudden close to missing our train. We ran for a cab and tried several before we found one that would put on the meter. The unstable driver repeated everything we said at least three times before laughing loudly and then muttering to himself. This made me uneasy enough, but Jamie was more concerned as he'd clocked the huge knife resting near the gear stick.

The station was a happy sight, and we paid up and left our loony driver swiftly. We ran through the station, stopping to grab a beer for the trip. Our carriage was, as usual, at the end of the platform. We made it on and found our benches—not seats, but small hard benches made for four people but barely big enough for two.

#notsosmug

Resigning ourselves to a bad night’s sleep and praying that the other seats would remain vacant, we settled in for the night. We saw Bangkok disappearing out the window as we left the city behind us.

Jamie went to check out the restaurant cart situation and came back beaming. "You have to come see this."

We walked through all of the carriages of chairs and beds until we reached the restaurant carriage, but we heard it before we saw it.

Inside the small carriage, tables and chairs filled the space, and music blasted out so loud you couldn't hear each other talk. Lights flashed, happy dancing waitresses served beer, and the TV aired some kind of Miss Thailand pole-dancing competition.

A few beers later and our heads ringing from the noise, we headed to our benches to try and sleep, hunched up and out of reach of cockroaches.