One of the Erawan waterfalls in the Erawan National Park
Based on the recommendation of Claire, our Scottish friend that we keep on traveling with, we went straight from the Bangkok airport to the bus station to head to Kanchanaburi, a small town on the River Kwai. We only meant to spend a couple of days there, but the laid back atmosphere and our sweet hotel room that floated on the river and had a porch with chairs and a hammock extended our stay.
Kanchanaburi itself is a sprawling town but the touristic area is limited to a long street of bars, restaurants, shops, hotels and food cart vendors. It was walking down this street on our second morning that a guy on a motorcycle stopped and said, “can I say hello?” Not wanting to deal with whatever he was selling, Carrie and I ignored him and kept walking. It wasn’t until he repeated his question and took off his helmet and sunglasses that we realized it was our couchsurfing friend Tut from Phuket. He had just quit his job at the timeshare company and was making his way to South Korea. What a small world!
Me, Carrie and Tut at the Erawan National Park
Along with Tut, we spent that evening at the night market where we wandered around sampling lots of foods and looking at all the junk for sale. The three of us also treated ourselves to massages: Tut and I got our feet done while Carrie got a full oil massage from a Lady Boy. The foot massage was quite nice and the masseuse used some form of dull pointed stick to access pressure points and kneed out knots that I had never experienced before. Very relaxing!
Waking up early the next morning, we rented a motorcycle and, with Carrie on the back, followed Tut to the Erawan National Park: home of a beautiful seven-level waterfall. Ranging in size and force, each level of the waterfall cascaded into beautiful blue pools perfect for swimming or other activities. One of the levels had a large mossy rock doubled as a water slide; we spent a lot of time there. Another highlight was swimming under a fall to get a massage from the water beating on our shoulders.
We could have spent hours at each level were it not for the little fish that bit the dead skin off of everyone’s feet when we stood still in the water for more than a second. More startling than painful, it still ensured that we didn’t stay at any one fall for too long. Fortunately, the crowds were not so bad and the higher up we went the fewer people we saw.
Shaky wooden bridges are common on the Death Railway
After saying goodbye to Tut, our next outing was a ride on the Death Railroad, which was named because of all the POW slave laborers who died building it during World War II. The trip started by going over the Bridge Over the River Kwai, which was made most famous by the old movie staring Obi Wan Kenobi himself, Alec Guiness. Carrie and I tried to watch it a couple of times before our ride but never made it past 10 minutes.
Death Railway chugged along for more than two hours, passing by streams, mountains and large caverns that had been dynamited out by the POWs. At some points the side of the train was literally inches from the face of the jagged cliff. We crossed a handful of rickety wood bridges over deep chasms and even went through a few tunnels. When the train reached the destination, we quickly hopped out and got a bus back to Kanchanaburi, finding it just a bit silly that on one of our few days of not moving around we spent our time on two unnecessary forms of transportation.
Most of the rest of our time in Kanchanaburi was spent relaxing on our porch, wandering the main street, catching up on some much needed writing and photo sorting and eating lots of meals from an delicious and cheap local restaurant where we befriended the entire staff. My favorite part was playing paper airplanes with their two year old daughter while waiting for amazing pad thais and curries.
Carrie walks into the Thailand section of the border
With our new friends Claire and Karen in tow, Carrie and I left the Perhentian Islands in Malaysia at 7:30am to head to Koh Phangan, Thailand, for the Full Moon Party. Referred to as the best and biggest party in the world, we had based our entire schedule for Malaysia and Singapore around getting to the party. It was something that we just had to experience. Little did we know that getting there would be an experience all in itself.
Our day began with a quick boat “taxi” to the speedboat ferry that would take us from the Perhentians back to the mainland. From there we hired a proper taxi to take the four of us to the Thailand border at Sungai Kolok. Getting our passport stamped to leave Malaysia was quick and painless. Getting into Thailand was not.
Checking to make sure no on has swine flu before entering Thailand
First we had to undergo a health check, which involved filing out a form swearing that we had no swine flu symptoms and getting our temperature checked. After mine came out at 36.7 degrees Celsius the nurse showed it to me and said, “very close.” I freaked out a bit until I saw the sign that said 38 was the minimum for concern. What was she scaring me for?!
Next we had to wait on a long and hot line to get our passports stamped with our Thai visas. While waiting, a money changer approached me and tried to give me a terrible exchange rate. As everything does, it turned into a little scene that ended with me refusing to give him my money.
The encounter did have a positive effect though, as Reuben, a Spaniard traveling alone and standing behind me in the line, asked me why I didn’t want to change money with that guy. We continued to talk about traveling and soon established that he too was going to the party without pre-booked accommodation. And just like that we had a fifth member of our crew.
The full moon gang (from the left: Claire, Karen, Reuben, Carrie and Me)
After successfully getting through the border check and entering Thailand we found that the train station we needed for the next leg of our journey was about 4 kilometers away. There were no car taxis anywhere so we had no choice but to all hop on the back of motorcycle taxis with our big bags. For ten minutes we caravanned through the streets of Sungai Kolok: waving, hooting and hollering at each other. Depending on whom you ask it was either a fun or terrifying experience; Claire said she had never been more scared in her life!
Safely arriving at the train station and buying our tickets to Surat Thani, we joined a train full of other Western travelers heading to the same place. The ride was long, dusty, hot and highly entertaining. Reuben was sitting next to a Thai who was drinking beer for 10 hours straight. Karen and Claire drank whisky with a Thai police officer in the food car. Carrie and I met an army officer who loves scuba diving as much as we do. Good times were had by all.
The sleeping quarters on board the overnight ferry to Koh Phangan
We finally arrived at Surat Thani at around 9pm and quickly started looking for cabs to take us to the boat dock. However, we had somehow picked up a straggler (we’ll call him San Diego because that’s where he’s from and I don’t know his name) who invited himself into our group to try and save money on the cab. He alternated between making sure to latch onto us and trying to find his own cheap deal. In the end he tagged along with us, which made us need two cabs instead of one and we all had to pay an extra 10 bhat for helping him. No problem, I would hope the same would happen to me in that situation.
The boat, which doubled as a cargo ship filled with food, beer and other dry goods, wound up costing double the normal price due to the party. The inside was lined with mattresses both on the floor and elevated in the aisles. Everyone had an assigned spot, though we did have to kick a few sleeping locals out of our beds after playing cards until nearly 1am. It took a while, but we all finally fell asleep to the rocking of the sea.
We made it!
Arriving at 5:30am, we were awoken by the sounds of the ship’s horns and countless taxi drivers on the jetty shouting “good morning! You want taxi? Where you go?” through the boat’s windows. Still groggy, we had no choice but to enter the taxi gauntlet waiting for us and try and figure out where we were headed. Not surprisingly, it was at this point that San Diego reappeared after being MIA all night and tagged along with us. Our destination: a hotel with a room big enough for six.
The epilogue to the story is that Claire’s place didn’t work out but we did find a wonderful AC room that we could cram the original five into. San Diego had been both trying to find his own place and make sure to stick with us all morning just in case, so we were a-ok with him doing his own thing. We even helped find him a cheap single room, but were completely done with him. Finally, at around 8:30am we all plopped into our beds and passed out.
Final tally
1 train ride
1 motorcycle taxi
3 car taxis
3 boats
26 hours of travel
Views from the back of our motorcycle taxi to the train station
The scene on the dock when our boat arrived at the full moon party at 530am
Carrie and I with our big bags in front of our hotel getting ready to leave the full moon party
We spent the night dancing and having a blast before going to bed at around 8am. Reuben returned. Karen came back. But where was Claire? This was the question we were still asking at 7pm when I hopped onto the back of a motorcycle driven by a Thai friend I had made. Our destinations? Health clinics and the police station to see if anyone had seen the girl whose passport I held in my hand. None of us knew what to do but we were very worried.
My friend told me that people go missing all the time and if she didn’t show up and we filed a police report that we would have to stay on the island until she surfaced. I had no luck on our motorcycle ride, but upon returning what did I see? Claire chatting with the girls telling a story about meeting new friends and winding up on the other side of the island with no cell phone. Thank goodness she was ok but what an experience for us.
The next day we all said our goodbyes and Carrie and started our 700 kilometer journey north to Chang Mai for some trekking. We had gone against our usual method of travel and booked a direct trip to Bangkok through a tour agent to make our life easier. Our taxi left the hotel at 11am and we next joined thousands of Westerners boarding a boat to what we thought was Surat Thani.
A huge pile of backpacker bags loaded onto the boat from the full moon party
In reality the boat dropped us off a few hours later at some dock somewhere in Thailand where busses waited to take us the rest of the way. We were among the last people off the boat by the time we finally got our bags all of the busses were full and we had to wait on this random dock for nearly two hours before the next bus came.
When we finally arrived in Surat Thani we were left at a bus terminal in the middle of nowhere so we had no choice but to buy their overpriced food. Our bus left 30 minutes late and got into Bangkok 30 minutes early: at 4:30am. We hopped in a cab to the train station, booked an 8:30am train to Chang Mai and waited in the terminal for it to leave.
A twelve hour train ride later we got to Chang Mai. got in a cab, found a hotel and passed out.
Tons of tourists waiting to board the boat to leave the full moon party
Final tally:
3 taxis
2 bus rides
1 boat ride
1 train ride
34 hours of travel
Add the 26 hours to get from Malaysia to the full moon party and you get 60 hours of travel in 6 days. Had we skipped the full moon party and flown from Malaysia to Chang Mai it would have taken 3 hours. Was it worth it? 100%!
The teeny compartment of the sleeper bus that both Carrie and I had to squeeze into
After our time in Hampi, we set forth on an overnight sleeper bus…the first one of our traveling career. Essentially, it is a normal bus but above the seats are little compartments with beds in them. We thought we would be traveling in style and comfort, but when we arrived we found that instead of the normal sized alcove, we were stuck in the little one in the back that was barely big enough for one person, let alone two large Americans. Also adding to the fun of the trip was the terrible condition of the road to Bangalore. On numerous occasions, we were awakened by the feeling of weightlessness for a second before crashing back down onto our bed as we were thrown into the air after hitting a pothole or giant bump at 60 kph.
None the worse for wear, we arrived in Bangalore for a 12 hour layover before our next train to Cochin. Moments after leaving the station we were approached by a cab driver who offered a tour of the city for a very low price: including the two sites we had already wanted to see that day. The tour itself involved the driver taking us around and giving us some history in broken English…but the catch that he didn’t mention until it was too late was that we also had to stop in three different overpriced stores so that he could try and get commission. He insisted that we spend at least 15 minutes in each one and, despite the fact that we hadn’t eaten in nearly 24 hours, we went along for the ride.
The collection of people at the Banglore post office who helped warp up our package
When the tour finally ended we ran some errands that including a trip to the post office to mail a package home. Usually, post offices have people outside who make money sewing your package into a burlap sack for mailing abroad. However, this was a local branch and had no such folks outside, so we had to ask inside. It took a while for the staff to figure out what to do with us, but in the end they found a box we could use and four workers stopped everything they were doing to make sure that every inch was covered in packing tape and that we had written the destination address in at least five places. Keep in mind, this was really a one person job, so the other three people just stood around and supervised…a very common sight here.
Naturally, when we finally were ready to leave Bangalore we still had to deal with a 5.25 hour train delay. At around the four hour mark I went to the inquiry window to see if our train was actually going to come or if we needed to get a hotel. Apparently everyone else’s train was delayed as well, because there was a mob scene both outside the window and inside the booth where one poor woman was surrounded by screaming Indians demanding updates on their trains.
As always, when Carrie and I do anything we have countless loacls watching our every move...even something as simple as taking a photo outside a temple gets the stares of all those around
Usually in a situation like this I would go find the station master in his quiet office, but as it was 10pm he had left for the day so I had no choice but to squeeze my way into the booth with the rest of the locals. I pushed my way in like a native, getting ever closer to the woman with the answers, as nearly 40 people shouted for answers of their own. Finally, the scene in the booth got so hectic that the military came in and started shooing people out. Fortunately, I was deep enough in the crowd that they could not get to me and, as the room began to thin out, I was finally able to ask my question.
It should come as little surprise that as the inquiry woman started to look up my train, a soldier finally grabbed my by the arm (quite forcibly) to get me out of the booth. “Please sir, I just need to find out if my train is coming. I’ve been waiting for nearly five hours,” I said in the most polite and desperate voice possible. It’s times like these that I’m grateful for being a white tourist here, as I quickly found myself as the only remaining passenger in the booth, face to face with the station manager who had no choice but to return for a late-night shift.
The epilogue is there was a massive train derailment earlier in the day and all trains were delayed or canceled. Fortunately, ours was just delayed and, of course, finally arrived a mere 30 minutes after I got back from the booth. But at least I had my answer and yet another entertaining experience.
The Only Train in India to Ever Leave Early
If you go by the saying “when it rains it pours,” then Carrie and I have been stuck in a monsoon lately when it comes to our luck with the trains. It all started when our 9 hour express train from Agra to Varanasi was canceled all week due to fog. Staying in Agra was not an option so we booked a set of far more convoluted connecting trains that would net us 17 total hours on two trains with only 40 minutes to connect to the second one in Delhi. Well, after a huge traffic jam getting to the train station in Agra, we arrived four minutes early and were told that our train was late, which we confirmed for ourselves when we didn’t see it on the platform.
A Train Station in India
During the hour we waited for it to arrive, Carrie and I must have talked to around five people and their responses ranged from the Station Master telling her “don’t worry” to a random man telling me that all trains out of Agra were canceled that day due to a huge train accident the night before. However, none of that mattered since the train was now more than an hour late and there was no chance of making our connecting train in Delhi. So, it was off to the ticket counter to see what our options were.
While the people at the ticket counters speak some English, it is very limited and they have a tough time coming up with creative ideas on how to get places. Fortunately, the head of trains in Agra was quite helpful and found us a pair of connecting trains to take us to Varanasi, though we would have to wait around six hours in the station. I was also trying to get a refund for the train that never came, but had to wait another few hours as a train is not considered late until it’s been delayed at least three hours, regardless of how it effects your next train.
Carrie waits patiently at the Agra train station
Three hours later and after speaking to half the employees of the station, I was told that the train had actually been on the platform and left on time. I argued this fact with the head of trains as nearly a dozen locals stood around me in a circle seeing what the white man up to. To this day, Carrie and I are convinced that it was the first train in Indian history to leave early, but regardless, they only refunded 50% of the ticket. Even with the time we waited in the station for our new train, we still got into Varanasi at nearly the same time. Too bad someone hadn’t told us about the train we finally got on from the beginning!
More Delays
Our next commute involved a train from Varanasi to Satna and then a connecting bus to our final destination of Kajahuro. This time we wanted to take no chances and got to the station an hour early, only to look at the board and see that it had already been delayed by an hour. The entire station was packed from wall to wall with people sleeping on the floor, as most other trains were also super delayed or canceled. We sat around, read some books, had some food, I slept on the cold floor for a while and we watched as families of monkeys in the station jumped around, fought each other and even “did it.”
Some of the monkeys that kept us entertained in the station during a three hour train delay
When it finally came, just under three hours late, we randomly found ourselves in a section of the sleeper car that had other backpackers who had also gotten stuck in the delay. This worked out well, as the delay meant that we missed most of the buses from Satna to Khajuraho and would have to wait nearly 7 hours in a teeny town with nothing to do until the next bus departed. However, six of us from the train bargained down a taxi driver to take us all the way there and, for the first time in a while, we had a nice, quick and easy bit of transportation joking about the delay and the monkeys.
31 Hours From Here to There
After a few relaxing days in Khajuraho with our friends from the taxi it was finally time to head to the south of India and warmer weather. We left our hotel room at noon (take note of this start time) to head to the local station where our first train to Janci arrived a mere 1.5 hours late. We had no idea what we were doing for our connecting train but figured since our destination was close to Mumbai there would be no problem. Well, when we got to Janci (at 6:30pm) our only real option seemed to be a 19 hour train ride that left at 9:30. Not so terrible except for the fact that because the train was already en-route we could not reserve seats and the train looked quite full. We decided to roll the dice, purchase General Class tickets (the cheapest way that only the poor travel in with no beds or assigned seating and more than 100 people crammed into a car) with the idea that we could just go find a couple of beds in sleeper class and pay the difference when the ticket collector showed up.
Me in the space on the floor I had to sleep in for 7 hours en route to Puna
Almost two hours after it’s scheduled arrival (now 11:30pm) our train arrived and I asked an employee with a clipboard if there were any available beds in the entire train, to which he, of course, replied “no!” My heart sank. What were we going to do for 19 hours without seats?! We still decided to hop on and figure it out, but after wandering through countless cars looking for even one bed to squeeze into we had run out of options. All we could come up with was to sleep in the doorway area and take turns guarding our stuff.
As luck would have it, Carrie decided to give it one last shot and some nice Indian guy (who we would later become friends with) said that there was one extra bed for her for a few hours until his friend got on board at a later stop. Where did that leave me, you may ask? Sleeping on the floor, of course. So, as Carrie snuggled in a teeny train bed next to half of our bags, I spread out and laid down on a sheet in the two foot (at most) space in between the rows of beds filled with sleeping Indians.
Laying there with the smell of dirty shoes, urine and dust bombarding my senses, I tried to find a comfortable position. The winner was the fetal position, as laying on my back left my feet in the middle of a heavily trafficked aisle. So I lay there, surrounded by snoring and farting Indians with the pain growing in my hips from laying on the hard floor less than a foot from the train wheels. Somehow I managed to fall asleep for a few hours but when I woke up and tried to stretch out into the aisle I found that it was now completely full of Indians laying head to toe. I had no choice but to return to the fetal position for the rest of the night.
Everyone stretching during the 1.5 hour delay to change the engine on our train after it broke down
At around 6:30am, the owner of Carrie’s bed came back and she had to join me on the floor, which didn’t really work at all as we were both now halfway under the seats with our faces pushed up against bags. Thirty minutes later we decided to give up hope and just sat cross legged on the floor for an hour or so until people started waking up and seats became available (its much easier to cram 5 people onto a seat bench when no one is sleeping on it).
The rest of our trip was actually quite pleasant and probably our favorite train ride yet, as we spent the rest of it making friends with half of the train car who were all beyond kind and offered us their beds to sleep on (sure, noooow they offer them :P ). Even a 1.5 hour delay as we stopped to replace our train engine couldn’t dampen the good mood. A friend that I made during the delay said had he known that a white person was sleeping on the floor that he would have traded places. I was sure to tell him how unnecessary that was and that I never would have agreed to that, but it was still a very nice gesture.
Hanging out of a train
The final drama came when the ticket man tried to charge us for the nearly $20 difference between the tickets we bought and the ones we needed to be in sleeper class. It didn’t matter that I had slept on the floor: just that we were in the wrong car. Our new friends told me not to pay before I knew it I was playing the stupid tourist card with half the train watching the show. My fib was that I had already paid nearly $20 for our reserved seats to some random man at the station who told me he would do everything for me (an obvious con that we would hopefully never fall for). As such, we didn’t have the money to pay for the whole difference. After about 20 minutes of pure acting on my part and the help of our new friends, he left with only $2. In reality, it would have been easier to bribe him or just pay the $20, because really, what’s $20, but we had so many people joining in and telling me to do different things it quickly became impossible to backtrack from. So not worth it!
This saga of train stories comes to an end with us finally getting a hotel in Puna at 7pm the day after we left Khajuraho: 31 hours later and not even at our final destination, but as far as we could go that day. There was also a rickshaw driver who tried to run a con on us when we were looking for hotels, but that’s a story for another day and possibly the karmic reprisal for the con I pulled on the train.
