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Published: December 3rd 2009
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I returned to Bangkok from the temple in Chiang Mai, in order to make the next part of my journey: a series of trains south through Thailand and Malaysia to Singapore. I travelled in first class on the train from Chiang Mai, craving a little comfort after the ten days of deprivation in the monastery. The seats were quite comfortable, and the airline-style complimentary meals were nice, but I missed the procession of food and drink sellers, and most of my fellow travellers seemed to be foreigners like I. The scenery, apparently the same from whichever class you travelled in, was lush jungles, and flocks of water birds in watery green rice fields.
My arrival back in Bangkok was greeted enthusiastically by the tuk tuk and taxi drivers. They were all eager to know where I wanted to go, but they were all disappointed as I was headed to a hotel only a hundred yards away. I first made sure the hotel had cold beer and the internet, and took a room with air-conditioning and a balcony for 800 baht. Quite luxurious, I know, but still cheap. I raised an eyebrow as I read prominent notice in the hotel lobby,
giving in-depth house rules and charges if a guest were to entertain ‘a male or female companion’ in their room. It was late, so I had that delicious longed-for beer, did some quick web-research on the next leg of the trip - and began searching for dates of the random ferry departures to Indonesia - and did not entertain a male or female companion.
I found that the ferry I wanted to catch was scheduled to depart from Batam, near Singapore, on the following Wednesday, which would allow me to get to Bali in Indonesia only just in time for the flight to Darwin I had booked cheaply months before. It would be a shame not to spend any time in Bali, but I was sure that its charm would find it hard to compete with the other treasures I had witnessed on my trip so far, and those still to come. From my balcony I looked over the ebbing late-evening traffic over towards the sweeping arch of the train station. On the pavements in between, the evening food-traders had set up their grills and tables and chairs and were keeping busy.
Friday 20 November At 9am
I told the receptionist that I wanted to leave my backpack for a few hours before I caught my early-afternoon train, which was fine by her. I also said that I needed to pay for the beer I had had the previous evening. “Ok,” she said, looking at me slightly dubiously for some yet unknown reason, and walked over to the fridge to check the price list - only she reached into the fridge and took out a bottle. “No, I don’t want a beer, only to pay for the one I had last night.” “Yes, yes!” said she, and took the bottle around the corner, into the restaurant, only to return with it opened, and placed it on the counter before me. The day before, freshly out of the temple and my deprived state, I would have been glad of it at that hour of the morning, but no thanks; perhaps the kitchen could use it in cooking? Or perhaps there was a Finnish traveler who would like it, like the morning brandy-drinking one I met in Dubrovnik.
I looked around a couple of shopping centres, idly researching tiny netbook computers, which I thought would help me keep entertained on the long train journeys ahead, and keep me on top of my blogging. Actually I haven’t felt much bored on this trip yet. Surprisingly I found few shops to help me spend my baht - I was obviously not in the electronics-quarter of Bangkok, apart from the endless stalls selling mobile phones, and many shops were closed in deference to the Muslim observance of Friday. So no netbook, but instead a real book - the fattest volume of Dickens I could find, which I was sure would last me at least through my upcoming train journeys, and which did not require an operating system. My trip research revealed that I would have a couple of days to occupy myself in Singapore before the Indonesian ferry, so maybe I could buy a netbook there. I planned to stay in Singapore, not Batam Island, from where the ferry actually was due to depart, because Batam promised few delights - except, as the Lonely Planet website proclaimed, for girly bars (no doubt bars that were decorated with scatter cushions and only served white wine spritzers).
The International Ekspres from Bangkok to Butterworth, near Penang in Malaysia, was very comfortable. I didn’t get to ride in the club car coupled to the rear, or even eat in the restaurant car - as my meals were brought to me in my second class seat. But there was plenty of room, and the seats folded down to make beds allowing us to lie lengthways along the train, as opposed to crossways for my Roman and Tehrani train trips. Lengthways is much better for sleeping!
I should have booked my ticket in advance by email or phone, as annoyingly you can’t but tickets for the non-Thailand part of the journey from Thailand. However, I risked travelling with a ticket only to Hat Yai junction, in Thailand, and was able to buy an extension to the border of Malaysia from the conductor for about 40 cents. After immigration control I had enough time to change some money and buy a ticket for the rest of the journey before the train headed off. The immigration and customs checks went well. I was thankful that no-one had hidden any drugs in my backpack, as there were large threatening signs warning of the death penalty for drug smuggling (as there are at most South East Asian borders). The customs man insisted on viewing the Persian carpet I had been hauling across the world - still as tightly packed up as it had been when I left the Tehran Bazaar, until that moment. Mercifully no drugs were hidden there either.
A few hours later the train was in quaintly-named Butterworth, and I decided to go to nearby Penang on the nearby ferry, and spend a night and a day there before heading on to Singapore. I had heard that Georgetown, on the island, was a must-see colonial gem.
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